


The Ones You Call Home

by alwayseven



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwayseven/pseuds/alwayseven





	The Ones You Call Home

Jon was late for first period. It didn’t help he’d gotten stuck in major traffic on Burnside, behind three buses and construction.

Not that it would have made a difference. He was always late.

He pulled onto Salmon street, past PGE park and the early morning MAX traffic, and circled four blocks before he found a parking spot. The only real downside to going to school downtown was trying to find available parking in the city blocks.

He locked his car and took off across the street, not bothering to wait for the light to change.

It was warm already, just barely eight and the heat beginning to build. It didn’t get really warm in Portland until August and it usually lasted until well into September, when the leaves started to change and the rain was just around the corner. He was already starting to sweat as he hurried up the block.

The front of the school was busy with people filing in before the final bell. Jon didn’t have time to go to his locker first, he took the stairs two at a time and sprinted past the library. He managed to push through the door to chemistry as the bell was ringing.

He caught his breath and slid into his seat next to Tom before Mr. Heffler looked up from his desk.

“Hey,” Tom grinned, leaning over his desk. “What happened to you last night?”

Jon smirked. “Chelsea Parks,” he whispered and Tom let out a guffaw and bumped his fist against Jon’s.

“I knew it. Where did you go?” Tom wanted to know, waiting expectantly.

“Up to Skyline,” Jon said, pulling out his chemistry text book and his notes.

“Wait for me after class, you owe me details,” Tom told him, ducking his head back to his desk. Heffler had started the lecture and as always, was completely oblivious to the rest of the class.

Jon had tried to work his schedule so he could get out of having to take a science his Senior year, but unfortunately, he and Tom were stuck in advanced chemistry with Heffler for the second year running.

Jon spent the fifty minutes trying to pay attention but Heffler’s monotone was threatening to put him to sleep, more so than usual. He’d stayed out late with Chelsea, until almost two, smoking and making out and Jon was regretting that decision now that it was eight in the morning and he had a whole day ahead of him.

The bell finally rang and Jon and Tom darted out of the classroom.

“So come on, tell me what happened,” Tom urged, as the whole school spilled out into the hallways, shuffling each other towards the next class.

Jon shrugged and gave Tom a dirty grin.

“No shit!” Tom crowed, slapping Jon’s back. “In your car?”

“We smoked up and then crawled into the backseat.” Jon shrugged like it was no big deal but he took in the grin Tom was giving him and felt a tiny bit smug.

“So, was it a one time thing or are you dating or whatever?” Tom stopped outside the doorway of his second period.

Jon made a face. “I don’t really know? She’s nice, and funny as fuck when she’s stoned.” The sex hadn’t been bad either, Jon thought, biting back a smirk.

“Well hell, I don’t know how you do it, but girls just fucking eat your shit up.” Tom shook his head, resigned after all these years to the fact that Jon didn’t have to do much of anything and girls sort of fell in his lap. They seemed to like his whole careless way of being. Not that he minded.

“I gotta go,” Jon said, watching the halls empty.

“See you at lunch,” Tom said, disappearing into the classroom.

Jon hadn’t known what he was expecting, but being a senior at Lincoln high school didn’t change much. Part of him had thought it would feel different, less of a drag to be here day in and out. Aside from the perk of a locker in Senior hall, it was the same as it had always been. The same kids he’d gone through elementary and middle schools with, the same teachers he’d seen every day for the last four years, even the food was the same.

Jon had never needed much excitement, he liked things steady and unchanging for the most part, but he couldn’t help wishing that something would happen to shake him out of the stupor of the same routine day in and out.

 

* * *

 

Jon ran into Brendon at break. He was grabbing a soda from the vending machine and causing a scene in his painted on black jeans, studded belt and bright pink sneakers.

"Hey trouble maker," Jon grinned, leaning against the wall and watching Brendon kick the machine.

Brendon looked up, a pleased smile breaking across his face. "Give me fifty cents," he said, holding his hand out.

Jon crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow, knowing how this was going to end.

Brendon's eyes widened and his nose wrinkled, his lower lip slowly jutting out.

"Oh shit," Jon sighed, straightening and reaching into his pocket before Brendon could throw the full effect of the big brown puppy eyes at him. He slapped two quarters into Brendon's outstretched hand and Brendon just grinned, a big pleased smile. "Thanks," he said, happily.

He grabbed his can of Pepsi and held it out to Jon who took a sip. Jon wrapped his arm around Brendon's shoulder and tugged him in against his side.

"Why didn't you come over yesterday?" he said as they walked down front hall towards Brendon's locker.

Brendon made a face. "Church thing. I couldn't get out of it, even though my parents swear up and down they're not trying to fix me."

Jon squeezed Brendon's shoulders.

"Mom says hi, by the way," Brendon said, tilting his head back against Jon's shoulder to look at him.

"Tell her I said hi. You want to hang for a bit after school?"

Brendon shook his head. "Can't, Kara's picking me up to take me shopping." Brendon grinned. "Mom hates my clothes."

"Thought you said they're _not_ trying to fix you."

Brendon shrugged. "I think they think they're helping."

The five minute bell rang and Jon reached for Brendon's Pepsi, downing the last bit. "Lunch tomorrow?" he called as he took off back down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Okay!" Brendon shouted back, disappearing around the corner.

Jon was in second grade when he met Brendon, a tiny kindergartner who had a big toothy smile and wanted to make friends with everyone he’d ever come into contact with. They’d been best friends ever since Brendon ignored the unspoken social rules of elementary school and walked across the cafeteria to scoot in between Jon and Tom where they were busy talking about what kind of dog Tom should ask for for Christmas.

“I’m Brendon,” he’d said and that had been it, they’d sort of been stuck together since.

Tom and Brendon got along about as well as a bull dog and a tiny yappy Pomeranian. Jon had gotten used to compartmentalizing his friendships.

Brendon was too out there for Tom, too oblivious to what anyone else thought. It was one of Jon's favorite things about Brendon, since Jon himself hadn't ever really learned that particular skill.

 

* * *

 

Chelsea caught up with Jon after school as he was rushing to his car to make it out before Salmon Street got too crowded with the rush of students.

"Hey," she said a little breathlessly, reaching out to wrap her fingers around his wrist.

He smiled and spun her toward him to kiss her quick on the lips.

"Sorry," he said, a hand at her hip. "I have work."

"I know," she said, "I have to go to practice anyway, but do you want to do something tonight?" She smiled up at him, eyes hopeful.

"Yeah, I'll pick you up? I get off at eight." Jon rubbed his thumb along the smooth skin where her jeans had fallen low.

She ducked her head, looking sheepish. “My mom sort of grounded me,” she admitted. “For last night.”

“Shit,” Jon winced, “that’s my fault. Sorry.”

She shook her head, leaning into him, looking earnest. “No, it’s fine, it would have happened eventually, my mom’s sort of been on my case since she found out I skipped practice last week. So pick me up, she probably won’t be home anyway, she’s got a new boyfriend.” Chelsea said the last bit with a grimace on her face.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get you in more trouble.”

“It’s fine, I want to, we can go up to the zoo. Holly’s spending all her time with Tom lately so maybe they can come and we can smoke.”

“I’ll call Tom,” Jon said bending his head to brush his lips across the apple of her cheek.

She beamed at him and turned to run back into the school. Jon watched her go. Last night had been the first time they really hooked up, though they’d spent the last half of the summer flirting and skirting around each other.  
 Chelsea was the type of girl who wanted to hold hands in the hall and come over for dinner and go to Prom. Jon was not that guy, but she was cute and kind of sexy and Jon was looking for some fun to break up the monotony of high school.

Traffic was bad going up Burnside but once he turned onto Vista it took less than ten minutes to get to Strohecker's, the upscale grocery store where he was a bag boy.

It was his third year here, a condition set by his parents for having a mostly non-existent curfew, provided he got decent grades. And Jon liked being able to stay out with Tom and Bill and the rest of their friends so he grit his teeth and did his job.

 

* * *

 

The KRok morning show woke Jon up at an almost unbearable volume, and he rolled over, smacking at the alarm and nearly falling out of bed in the process.

He hadn't gotten in until close to two, two hours past his theoretical curfew. He lay still, trying to listen for his parents, hoping they'd left for work already.

They'd stopped waiting up for him his sophomore year when they realized he always came home and his grades were still decent enough to get him into the University of Oregon.

Jon blinked blearily at the clock and groaned. He had twenty minutes before second bell and on a decent day it took twelve minutes to get to school.

He stumbled out of bed and forgo the shower, even though it was likely he still smelled like weed. He fumbled in the hamper of clean clothes, pulled on jeans and a shirt that had belonged to his older brother, and took off down the stairs, grabbing his backpack as he went.

Jon's mom poked her head out of the kitchen, nearly giving him a heart attack. "No breakfast? If you keep oversleeping, we're going to have to re-think you staying out so late."

Jon winced. "Yeah, I know, I'm working on it," he mumbled.

He gave her a sheepish wave and bolted out the door.

Jon started his car and blanched when he saw the time. Heffler was going to have his ass if he was late again and Jon wasn’t doing so well in Chemistry that he could afford his grade to suffer.

Jon found a place around on the block on the corner of 15th, and he practically sprinted up the block, past the other students rushing to make it before final bell.

Jon careened around the corner of front hall and came skidding to a stop, seconds from knocking over a harried looking kid who looked like he'd been standing in the wind for a while, his hair a little long and drifting in every direction.

"Shit, sorry," Jon panted, bracing a hand against the wall.

The kid scowled, annoyed, like Jon was wasting his time, but his cheeks were faintly pink. "It's fine," he said, and Jon noticed the way his chin went up a fraction of an inch.

"You're alright?" Jon asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Fine, forget it." He looked like he was seconds away from tapping his foot or crossing his arms.

"Okay," Jon shrugged and took off again down the hall, pausing to throw a backwards glance over his shoulder as the kid stood where he was, making faces at the floor. Jon took the stairs at a run and got cut off by the bell.

"You're late, again Mr. Walker," Heffler said in that painful monotone of his. "Once more and you're grade drops a letter."

"Yes, sir," Jon mumbled and took his seat next to Tom.

"So," Tom whispered, looking at Jon expectantly as Jon flipped to his notes from the homework. Jon ignored him for a beat, shrugging.

“Jon,” Tom hissed. Jon bit back a smile. He turned to Tom and said, low so Mr. Heffler wouldn’t get on him for talking, “Her mom grounded her, but she snuck out and we drove to Washington Park. Where the hell were you, by the way? We waited for fucking forty minutes."

Tom ducked his head, sheepish. "We stayed at Holly's."

Jon snorted. "I figured. You coulda called."

Tom laughed. "I didn't want to interrupt whatever it was you and Chelsea were doing."

Jon didn't say anything. Heffler had started lecturing and Jon pretended to pay attention.

 

* * *

 

Jon was late coming back from lunch with Chelsea. The line had been nearly around the corner at the Bento place and they were practically eating and running, trying to get to class before the bell. Jon's fifth period was with Ms. Hill, who was even more of a stickler for punctuality than Heffler and Jon was going to be in so much shit if he was late again.

Chelsea was holding his hand as they walked through the front hall, and she was talking about her friend Emma's upcoming party.

"So you're coming, right?" she said, tugging Jon's hand to get his attention. Jon was trying to walk and listen and not choke on his kebab and he nearly got cold cocked by the door of the athletic office.

"Oh shit," the guy said, stumbling to a stop in front of Jon.

Jon tripped and knocked his forehead against the door, biting his lip in the process.

"Oh god," the kid said, cheeks pink, blue eyes wide. "I'm sorry."

Jon gripped the door frame, trying to regain his balance and blinked. It was the kid he'd nearly run over this morning.

"It's no problem," Jon said with a watery grin, his lip stinging. "I guess we're even."

The guy cracked a small smile, relief flooding his face.

Chelsea tugged on Jon's sleeve. "Jon," she said, all but tapping her foot in impatience.

"I'll catch you after class?" Jon said absently, trying not to let his lunch fall. His forehead was throbbing dully.

Chelsea sighed, put upon, and said, "I guess."

"You're new, right?" Jon said when she'd gone. "I haven't seen you around." Jon was pretty sure he’d have remembered a guy in tight girl jeans and a pink t-shirt that rode up a little over the curve of a slight belly.

The kid nodded, hoisting his pile of books up higher against his chest. "Yeah, I transferred from Wilson."

"You're a Senior?"

The kid snorted and shook his head sadly. "No, Sophomore."

"Oh." Jon said blankly. "Um, oh right," he said ruefully, rolling his eyes at himself, "I'm Jon." Jon held his hand out to the kid who smirked and shook it. "Spencer."

Jon was about to say something else when the second bell rang abruptly. "Oh fuck," Jon muttered, spinning around. "I'll catch you around," he said over his shoulder and took off at a sprint.

 

* * *

 

The only tolerable thing about Wednesday block was the fact that school started forty minutes later than usual. Unfortunately, block meant having to sit through a double period of Chem. And if he was going to do that without falling off his chair, he needed caffeine. For once he wasn't running late and he stopped at Boyd's, the coffee shop around the corner from Lincoln, waiting in line to order as much caffeine as he could take without killing himself.

"Hi," Jon heard from behind him and he turned. It was Spencer, the kid from yesterday. He was wearing tiny jeans that seemed like they might be a size or two too small and a t-shirt in lavender that did nice things for his skin.

"Hey," Jon grinned, holding out his hand for Spencer to slap. "What's going on?"

Spencer shrugged, trying to hide a grimace. "An hour and a half of Algebra II," he said, looking pained. "I think I might die."

Jon laughed as the line moved forward. "I feel you, I have Chemistry with Heffler."

Spencer made a face and Jon nodded. "Yeah, you've heard of him, he's fucking notorious for making even dirt seem more interesting than what he teaches."

Spencer grinned. "Well then, I guess I should be glad I don't have him."

Jon ordered his coffee, and one for Tom since he'd get shit for it if he didn't and then he hung back, waiting for Spencer who got also got two.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Spencer said, startled.  
 Jon shrugged. “I didn’t mind.”

“Uh, thanks,” Spencer mumbled, pushing the door open.

They walked in quiet back to school.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” It came out like a question and Spencer made a face, presumably at himself.

Jon grinned. “Yeah, see you.”

Jon dropped his books at his locker and was taking the stairs two at a time when someone grabbed him from behind, an arm around his waist.

“What’d you bring me?” Brendon crowed, climbing Jon like he weighed nothing.

“Jesus, when did you get so fucking heavy?” Jon panted, struggling up the stairs with Brendon on his back.

Brendon hummed in his ear, happy as a fucking clam, and reached for one of the cups in Jon’s hand.

“Fuck, that’s Tom’s,” Jon said, pulling his hand out of reach. He thrust the other one at Brendon.

“Don’t drink it all, I need that to get through the next two hours.”

Brendon made a sympathetic noise and dropped to his feet as Jon reached the second floor. “Sometimes I’m so grateful I’m not a senior.”

Jon snorted. “Yeah, count your blessings while it lasts.”

 

* * *

 

Thursday morning Jon ran into Spencer again as he was walking into school, barely on time.

 “Hey! Spencer!” Jon called, hurrying to catch up, ducking his head against the wind. Spencer turned, startled and then his face changed, recognition passing across his features.   “Hi,” he said, slowing to wait for Jon.

“Where are you headed?” Jon asked, grabbing the door.

“My locker on the language hall. I have French first,” Spencer said, making a face.

Jon grimaced. “I’m in third year French, you have Rice?”

Spencer nodded and Jon shook his head, laughing. “Oh man, this is my third year with her. She’s brutal.”

“I can’t understand a word she says,” Spencer said. “I think that’s just because I suck at languages.”

“No,” Jon laughed, “that’s just Rice. Even the kids who went to the French American school look at her confused. She went to school in Quebec, it’s why no one can understand her.”

Spencer was shaking his head, smiling. “At Wilson, they let us take sign language to fulfill the requirement. That was cake compared to this.”

“Oh shit, we always knew you guys had it easier at Wilson.”

“Hah, yeah right, that’s what we used to say about you Lincoln richie riches.”

“That’s a popular misconception,” Jon said, solemnly, shaking his head. Spencer’s laugh was cut off by the buzz of the five minute bell.

“Shit, I still gotta get my books,” Spencer said, looking like he really didn’t want to.

“Hey, wait,” Jon blurted, “come eat lunch with me and my friends,” he said. “We eat at our lockers in Senior Hall, unless we’re going out.”

“I sort of told my best friend I’d eat with him,” Spencer said apologetically.

“Bring him. Problem solved, now you’re out of excuses.”

Spencer grinned suddenly, his face changing as his eyes crinkled at the corners. “We’ll see,” he said, shaking his head as though Jon was amusing him.

“Gotta get to class,” Spencer said.  
 “I’ll see you at lunch!” Jon called after him.

He could hear Spencer’s laugh down the hall.

 

* * *

 

Jon and his friends spent their lunch break at their lockers, spread out in the hall on the floor, talking about this week's football game. Lincoln had won the first four games of the season, and for the first time in twenty years, people were cautiously optimistic that they might finally have a winning season.

"Who are you looking for?" Tom said, throwing a carrot at Jon's head.

They were sitting at the lockers, crowded around each other like a pack.

Jon scowled and tossed his empty Dr. Pepper can at Tom. It hit the locker he was leaning against, knocked him in his head and landed in his lap.

"No one," Jon said, trying to keep from looking down the hallway. "Just this guy I met the other day, told him to come eat with us. He's pretty chill."

Chelsea had her hand on Jon's knee. Jon let her, he couldn't think of a reason for moving it that wouldn't cause a scene. Jon was always big on avoiding scenes.

Jon had just about given up on Spencer, when he showed up, a guy Jon recognized with him.

"Hi," Spencer said, unsure, standing in front of Jon looking like he didn't quite believe Jon had been serious.

Jon felt the smile spread across his face. "Hi," he said, "you came."

Spencer shrugged. "This is Ryan," he said, gesturing to his friend, a skinny guy in eyeliner and a My Chemical Romance t-shirt that was a size too small for him. Jon was pretty sure they'd had civics together last year.

Jon pulled his legs in, crossing them underneath himself. "Here, sit," he said.

Jon made the introductions.

"Hey, so Tom’s girlfriend Holly is having a party tomorrow night," Jon said. "You should come."

"I'm not really into parties," Spencer said with a shrug of his shoulders like he was apologizing for something.

Jon wanted to object, to press the issue, but he let it go. "If you change your mind, text me and I'll send you the address.

Ryan didn't say much but he was clearly taking everything in.

It wasn't so much that Ryan had this pinched look on his face or didn't say more than two words during the thirty minutes that they'd sat eating lunch. It was more the fact that Jon couldn't look away from the way Spencer and Ryan interacted with each other. They seemed to communicate in just facial expressions, and it was oddly fascinating, if confusing as hell.

They sat practically in each other's laps, Ryan's ankle hooked over Spencer's calve and they were either oblivious to the strange looks people were giving them or they just didn't give a fuck.

Spencer kept handing over bits of his lunch to Ryan, a mother bird to a starving baby, or some such crap. And Ryan took it all with a scowl on his face, and Jon imagined the silent conversation they were having.

 

* * *

 

Brendon was waiting for Jon after school, sitting on the low wall that ran the length of the school, earbuds in his ears and legs crossed under him.

"Can you give me a ride on your way to work?" Brendon asked, looking up when Jon came to hover over him.

"What's in it for me?" Jon demanded, knowing full well he'd never say no to Brendon. He'd never been able to.

"My company," Brendon said as if that was all Jon could ever wish for.

"Someday, you’re going to learn to drive," Jon muttered, unlocking the car.

"Why?" Brendon said blankly. "Then I wouldn't need you anymore, and I know how much you love that I need you."

"Right," Jon rolled his eyes. "Where am I taking you?" He asked, taking a left on to 15th as the Max was pulling into the station across from PGE Park.

"I'm meeting my partner in Physics at the Starbucks at Uptown," Brendon said, buckling his seat belt.

"And you couldn't walk because?"

"Because I have you. So, I saw you eating lunch with Spencer Smith."

Jon looked over at Brendon, startled. "You know him?"

Brendon shrugged. "We have some classes together, but I met him a few summers ago at that stupid young leaders thing my mom made me do at the community center."

Jon wanted to ask Brendon about him but he didn't like the way Brendon was looking at him so he changed the subject.

"How's the boyfriend search going?" Jon asked, just to watch the way Brendon's nose wrinkled in distaste.

"It's not. There's a sad lack of gay guys at Lincoln. Or," Brendon said, thinking about it, "openly gay guys."

The summer Jon turned twelve, Brendon had come over one afternoon, eyes big and solemn and said, "we have to talk. I like boys."

And Jon had just laughed, wrapped his arm around Brendon's shoulder pulling him against his side and said, "I know, dork."

And that's just how it had always been between them, Brendon wearing red glasses and little pink hoodies, unapologetic and Jon quietly wishing he was half as brave as Brendon.

"You'd have better luck at the performing arts school," Jon laughed.

"Too bad my parents think sending me there would make me more gay," Brendon muttered, folding his arms and sinking further into the seat.

Jon looked over at Brendon's tennis shoes which were gold lame. Brendon caught his eye, grinning. "Like that's possible," they said in unison and Brendon laughed, head back, mouth open.

Jon watched Brendon and couldn't help the thought that flitted through his mind, taking in Brendon's beaming face, _never change._

 

* * *

 

Jon wasn’t sure if he’d managed to convince Spencer to join them for lunch again the following day. They were at the lockers again, Jon sitting with his back to the hallway, eating his sandwich and listening to Dave and Bill argue about who was better at getting girls. Jon just listened with one ear and was startled when he heard his name from somewhere behind him.

“Hey!” he said, pleased when he tilted his head back and Spencer was standing above him, alone this time.

Spencer gave him a small smile and slid to the floor to sit next to Jon.

“Ryan had an appointment with the guidance counselor,” Spencer shrugged, opening his lunch sack.

"Hey, Smith," Dave called suddenly from the other side of the group. "You coming to the game tonight?"

Spencer stared unblinking for a minute, unsure if Dave was talking to him. Jon grinned.

"Game?" Spencer said blankly.

Bill rolled his eyes. "The football game? Against Grant. We go to all the games."

"Oh, I didn't know you were into that," Spencer said, looking at Jon, an eyebrow raised.

Tom laughed. "We're not. We go to mock the team. And Bill likes to watch the cheerleaders."

"You should see it," Jon said conspiratorially, leaning in to Spencer. "Bill's almost got all the cheers down. I think he does them better than the actual cheerleaders.”

Spencer bit his lip, smiling.

The conversation turned to plans for after the game and Jon turned to Spencer. "So?" he asked quietly. "Are you coming?"

Spencer just looked at him for a second, head tilted to the side, considering. "If I can get a ride," he said finally.

"I'll pick you up," Jon said. “Where do you live?”

Spencer looked startled. "Um, no, it's okay. I'll get Ryan to drive me. He owes me, anyway."

Jon nudged Spencer. “Come on, it’s fine. I’ll pick you up at 7, just text me where you live. Okay?”

"Okay," Spencer said, hesitating. "If you're sure."

Jon smiled, thinking he’d never before looked forward to a Lincoln football game.

 

* * *

 

Chelsea was less than happy about having Spencer in the car. She didn't make any effort to talk to him. Spencer sat in the back, behind Jon, and ignored her.

The stands were already crowded when they got to the field, a few minutes before kick off. Chelsea wrapped herself around Jon and Jon had to fight the sudden urge to shrug her off.

"Come on," Jon said to Spencer, "we usually sit in the last row."

They picked their way through the crowded bleachers until they found Bill and Tom and Dave with the girls, already huddled underneath blankets. Bill was standing on the bench, his hands on his hips, doing this weird bump and grind thing that didn’t look at all like what the cheerleaders on the field were doing.

"Um, yeah," Jon laughed, looking at Spencer who was watching Bill with an eyebrow raised, mouth open. "This is pretty much what it's always like."

Spencer looked amused but he didn't say anything. Jon sat on the bench in front of Tom and gestured to Spencer to join him. Chelsea sat so close she was practically in Jon's lap.

"I'm glad you came," Jon said quietly, leaning close to Spencer.

He turned, surprised, eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"Mm, yeah. It gets a little tedious, the same shit over and over. Besides," Jon said, keeping his voice light, "I like having you around."

Spencer didn't say anything for a minute. "I like being around," he said then. Jon couldn’t tell if he was serious or teasing.

Jon spent the whole game preoccupied with Spencer, with watching his face. Spencer had expressive eyes that Jon found fascinating to watch, and a really dry sense of humor that caught Jon off guard.

He could tell Spencer couldn't care less about the game but he didn’t look bored, or like he'd rather be somewhere else.

Everything about sitting there in the bleachers, another cool September evening, was painfully familiar, all a routine part of Jon's life. But Spencer was sitting next to him, listening to Jon like he really cared what Jon was saying and it was such a nice change that Jon forgot himself a little.

Less than two weeks. It had been barely ten days since he'd met Spencer and Jon was having fun again at these stupid things, feeling like there was something to look forward to again, instead of going through the motions of his life just to get through high school in one piece.

"What?" Spencer said suddenly, startling Jon.

"Huh?" Jon blinked.

Spencer smirked. "You were giving me a weird look."

"Uh, sorry, my head's a million miles away," Jon said apologetically.

"It's probably the only way to get through this," Spencer nodded, sympathetically, all solemn.

Jon burst out laughing and shook his head. "What, you didn't do this at your other school?"

Spencer choked on a startled laugh. "Yeah, me and Ryan, at every game. With pom poms."

Jon grinned. “And Ryan yelling out the cheers.”

Spencer laughed harder, mouth open, a completely charming laugh that took Jon completely off guard.

He liked making Spencer laugh, he realized. And that was a painfully complicated realization to come to, sitting here next to him, thighs touching.

Jon stood up abruptly. "Come with me to get snacks."

Spencer looked up, surprise giving way to something that looked a lot like relief.

They followed the trickle of people down the steps to the little snack bar as the first half wound down.

"I feel bad, you should have told me you hate football." Jon said, shoving his hands into his pockets as they got in line.

"It's not so bad," Spencer said with a shrug. His cheeks were pink. Jon found himself wondering what Spencer’s skin would feel like if he were to reach out and touch him where his skin was flushed, if it was from the cold or something else.

"We're going to go hang out at Holly's after this, but I can take you home if you want, " Jon told him, stepping forward to the counter.

Spencer made a face. "Yeah, if that's okay. That's not really, um." Spencer stopped. He looked like he was trying not to say something that might offend Jon.

“Hey,” Jon said, smiling ruefully. "It's fine, they kind of take some getting used to."

The game ended, Lincoln winning twenty-one to thirteen, and Jon leaned over to get Chelsea’s attention.

“Hey,” he said softly, “can you get a ride with Tom and Hol? I’m just going to take Spencer home real quick.”

“Jon.” She looked annoyed.

“I know, I’m sorry. I won’t be long, I promise.” He kissed her swiftly on the cheek and stood up abruptly.

“Ready?” he said brightly to Spencer.

Jon snuck a glance backwards and Chelsea had her arms crossed, frowning. s

“Can you take me to Ryan’s?” Spencer asked, sliding into the front seat.

“Yeah, no problem,” Jon nodded, pulling out into Friday night traffic.

Spencer gave Jon a wary smile. “Thanks for this. I hope I didn’t get you into trouble. She looked kind of pissed.”   
"She'll be okay," Jon assured him, ignoring the guilt that was threatening to creep in.

"Tell me about Ryan," Jon said, looking over at Spencer.

Spencer bit his lip, smiling, his eyes soft around the corners. "What do you want to know?"

Jon shrugged. "Everything. How did you become friends? How long have you known each other?"

Spencer leaned his head against the seat, turning to look at Jon. "We moved here from Vegas when I was five, to the house I live in now. Ryan lived on the corner, alone with his dad." Spencer's mouth tightened at the mention of Ryan's dad. Jon didn't press him.

"It was summer and I was playing outside, my mom had installed a sprinkler. I saw Ryan sitting on the front steps of his house. I don't really remember it but Mom says when she asked if I wanted a popsicle, I asked if I could give one to "the lonely boy on the corner."" Spencer shook his head, smiling. "It was kind of a good match, neither one of us liked to talk much so we used to play Playstation and Transformers and not talk."

It wasn't hard to imagine, both of them quiet, not having much to say, but inseparable with their own language.

"He seems really protective of you," Jon mused out loud.

Spencer looked up, a far away look in his eyes. "I think," Spencer paused. "I think we sort of. Look out for each other?"

Jon nodded. He understood that, that's the way it was with Brendon, not that Brendon needed anyone to look out for him. Jon had never met anyone more capable of sticking up for himself than Brendon.

"Thanks for coming," Jon said, as he pulled up in front of Spencer's house. "Sorry about Chelsea."

Spencer shook his head. "It's obvious she really likes you, I think she wanted you all to herself." Spencer grinned. "Thanks for the ride." He turned to get out of the car and then he paused. "See you on Monday?" he said, sounding almost hopeful.

Jon nodded. "Yeah, come eat with us. I'll bring my best friend Brendon, you know him, right?"

Spencer's grin got wider. "Okay," he nodded, "I'll see you then."

Jon sat in the car long after Spencer had disappeared. He was supposed to make an appearance at Holly's party, and he should probably smooth things over with Chelsea. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit 2 on speed dial.

"Come to this party with me," Jon wheedled as soon as Brendon answered.

He could practically hear Brendon's grin on the other end. "How many people are you trying to piss off tonight?"

"Fuck off, I have to go and you know it'll be more fun if you come."

Jon could picture Brendon bouncing on his toes. "Okay, come get me. You might have to wait while I do my makeup," he said, voice full of laughter.

Jon felt better immediately and he smiled into the dark interior of the car.

 

* * *

 

Brendon leaned his head out the window of his bedroom as Jon pulled into the driveway. "Come on up, I'm not ready yet."

Jon grinned up at him and let himself in through the front door. The house was quiet, empty.

"Where is everyone?" Jon asked, peeking his head into Brendon's room.

Brendon looked over from where he was standing in front of the full length mirror, pulling his bangs away from his eyes.

"Whoa," Jon said, taking in Brendon's black jeans that looked like he'd been poured into them, and his faux snakeskin coat that was cinched in the back like a corset.

Brendon spread his arms wide. "They caught a movie. What do you think?"

"I think you're the craziest kid I've ever met," Jon shook his head, trying to keep his smile from splitting his face in two.

"Good, that's what I was going for," Brendon said, nodding once and tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Well come on diva, let's get this show on the road." Jon didn't bother mentioning that maybe Brendon was a little over dressed for this party.

Brendon hijacked Jon's iPod and sang along in his falsetto. Jon had become so used to Brendon over the years that when he was hanging out with his other group of friends, he found himself missing Brendon and all of his simultaneously annoying and endearing quirks.

Holly lived less than two miles from Brendon's house and they could hear the music even as they rounded the corner.

Brendon bopped his head, looking excited. The last time Jon had dragged Brendon to one of these parties, Brendon ended up three sheets to the wind and half naked, dressed in some cheerleader's skirt and spankies.

Jon had a good time with the pictures from that one, giving Brendon as much hell as he possibly could.

"You going to be good on your own? I have to go find Chelsea and apologize." Jon said as they climbed out of the car, raising his voice to be heard above the din.

Brendon just beamed at Jon, bouncing. "Go play nice, I'm going to go dance."

Jon followed Brendon into the house, walls and windows shaking, kids overflowing out into the backyard.

Chelsea was sitting on the back steps with Holly, smoking a cigarette. Her eyes went cool when she saw Jon, but he could tell from the hopeful look on her face that he was mostly forgiven.

He held out his hand for her and she took it, attempting to appear aloof, indifferent. "Come on," Jon whispered, pressing his lips to her ear, "let me make it up to you."

He tugged her into the house, and she stopped abruptly, eyes falling on Brendon.

"You brought _him_?" Chelsea said, wrinkling her nose as she peered over Jon's shoulder. Jon felt his shoulders come up, feeling like he might lose his temper, but he kept himself in check and just nodded. "Yep," he said, and tugged Chelsea off in search of beer, and hopefully lots of it.

Jon downed a cup of cheap keg beer, got himself another and looked out into the living room to see what Brendon was getting into.

Jon choked on his beer. Brendon was dancing with three senior girls Jon knew, all of them slightly tipsy and plainly enamored of Brendon. Brendon had an arm around the pretty blonde one and his other raised above his head.

It took a little coercing to get Chelsea to forgive him for leaving her at the game, but she gave in, reluctantly at first. By the time curfew was approaching, they were in the backyard making out, Chelsea perched in his lap, one of his hands under her shirt.

"Shit," Jon pulled away, panting as his watch beeped.

"Come on, don't stop," she breathed, pulling him back with her fingers curled in his hair.

Jon made an apologetic face and shifted her enough off his lap so he could adjust his erection.

"I have to go find Brendon," he mumbled against her lips. She sighed, looked for a second like she was thinking of arguing and then she stood up, pulling him up with her. "Okay, but we can do something tomorrow night, right?"

Jon grinned at her. "Yes," he said emphatically.

She looked appeased and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull herself against his chest for another brief kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he promised. He went back through the house, looking for Brendon. He was right where Jon had left him a few hours ago, still dancing, only now he was by himself, his t-shirt hanging off his head, his jacket around his waist.

"Hey there super star," Jon grinned.

"Jon!" Brendon threw his arms wide, then wrapped one around Jon's waist. "Dance with me," he mumbled, pressing his open mouth to Jon's shoulder.

“Hey buddy,” Jon said, letting Brendon drool on him. “Why do you always end up mostly naked at these things?”

“Too hot,” Brendon said loudly and made a face when Jon unwound Brendon’s arm from around his waist.

"Time to go. Gotta get you home before curfew," Jon told him.

Brendon sighed, snuggling in closer. "Don't want to."

"I know, but we gotta. Come on, put your shirt on." Jon helped Brendon struggle into his shirt and then found his shoes under the sofa.

He grabbed Brendon's wrist and ushered him out to the car.

"You take such good care of me, Jon Walker," Brendon mumbled, slurred from exhaustion and one too many beers.

Jon buckled Brendon into the seat, and climbed into the driver's side. "Yeah, I can't remember why, though."

Brendon had his head turned on the seat and he was giving Jon the mooniest look. "Cause you love me," he said on a sigh.

"That's right." Jon shook his head, grinning.

Getting Brendon up to his room without his parents knowing he was drunk involved hoisting Brendon over his shoulder and tip toeing as quietly as possible up the stairs.

He put Brendon on the bed, yanked his shoes off and got him a glass of water. "Drink this," he said, sitting on the mattress and holding the cup out to Brendon. He waited until Brendon had drunk most of the water, pushed him down to the bed, pulling the sheets up over him.

He sat until Brendon had fallen asleep, mostly to make sure he wasn’t going to something stupid, and let himself out of the house.

 

* * *

 

Jon ran into Brendon right before lunch on Monday as he was rushing to grab his lunch bag from his locker.

“Hey,” Jon said, throwing an arm around Brendon’s shoulders, pulling him away from the group of friends he was standing with.

“I don’t know if you have plans, but you should come eat with us, you know Spencer," Jon insisted. "I promise you don't even have to talk to Tom." He resisted rolling his eyes, tired of having to keep his friends separate because Tom had said one insensitive remark five years ago.

"I like Spencer," Brendon agreed, giving in.

They ate outside on the patio, everyone gathered underneath one of the old Oak trees.

"Hey," Spencer said, pleasantly surprised when Brendon joined them pointedly ignoring Tom.

Jon smirked as Tom muttered, "nice to see you again, Brendon," so that only Jon could hear him.

"Hi Spencer," Brendon smiled, sitting close enough to him that he was practically on top of him. Jon rolled his eyes, ready to reach out and yank Brendon back, but Spencer gave him the sweetest, indulgent smile and Jon's eyes widened.

"I like you," Brendon said, looking pleased. Spencer’s smile widened.

From Spencer's other side, Ryan snorted.

"That's Ryan, don't pay any attention to him," Spencer said dryly, and then he leaned in and mock whispered conspiratorially, "he's jealous."

Brendon all but clapped his hands in glee. Brendon got to his knees to reach across Spencer and hold out his hand to Ryan, who looked at it, mouth open, staring blankly like he'd never before seen anyone like Brendon. That was usually the case when it came to Brendon, Jon had realized a long time ago.

"Nice to meet you, Ryan," Brendon said cheerfully, oblivious to the smirks everyone was giving him. Jon felt another pang of envy, watching him. Ryan shook his hand with all the wariness of someone reaching out to pet a lion.

"Uh oh," Jon muttered to himself under his breath, watching the way Brendon was leaning toward Ryan, this really intent look on his face. Jon recognized that single minded expression in his eyes.

Jon spent most of the rest of the lunch break warily watching Brendon and holding his breath, wondering if Ryan was a violent person.

"What are you doing?" Jon hissed finally, pulling Brendon away from the group.

Brendon just blinked up at him, all wide eyed innocence.

"Cut it out, ass," Jon sighed, letting Brendon go. "Ryan's not gay."

Brendon laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm pretty sure you're wrong," Brendon said gleefully.

"Okay, maybe I am," Jon said just for the sake of moving on since Brendon usually won every one of their arguments. "Maybe he's a little intense for you."

“Maybe,” Brendon said, beaming.

Jon was pretty sure Ryan had no idea what was about to hit, in the form of a tidal wave named Brendon.

 

* * *

 

Jon and Spencer had their heads bent together over the latest copy of AP that Spencer had brought with him, looking at tour dates for the upcoming Jack’s Mannequin tour.

“We should go to the Seattle date,” Jon said, “my cousin lives there, we can totally stay at his house.”

“Oh, shit, that’d be awesome,” Spencer mumbled, eyes bright. “I doubt my mom would let me,” he said. “She’s kind of overprotective.”

“Come on,” Jon wheedled, eyes pleading. Spencer smiled, ducking his head and laughing. “Hey, no, I’m totally serious,” Jon insisted. “I could get my aunt and my mom to talk to your mom, and we could work it out. How fucking amazing would that be?”

Spencer looked a little bewildered, but his eyes were soft, smiling and crinkled at the corners. “That would be pretty sweet,” he said quietly, like he really meant it.

Jon blinked at him suddenly, this pleasant warmth sliding through him, making even the tips of his fingers tingle. Jon reared back slightly, abruptly realizing how close they were sitting. His mouth was dry, the back of his neck prickling weirdly.

"Hey, Walker," Bill yelled all of a sudden and Jon looked up, startled, relieved.

Bill was looking at him expectantly, a grin on his face. "Did you hear? Dave's having a party after homecoming next week."

Jon groaned. Fuck, he'd completely forgotten about homecoming. He knew Chelsea was waiting for him to ask her. She was probably pretty annoyed at him but he was pretty sure she'd forget all about it if he asked her. He'd overheard her at Dave's on Saturday, talking with Holly about dress shopping.

In Jon's opinion, homecoming was an excuse to get wasted and get laid, usually in that order. It wasn't all that different than any other Saturday, except he was expected to shell out a couple hundred dollars on dinner and a corsage. At least the party at Dave’s meant there’d be booze for afterwards, to help forget the painful awkwardness that was a Lincoln dance.

“Are you going?” Jon asked Spencer who shook his head, laughing. “Uh, no, not likely,” he grinned.

“Lucky bastard,” Jon said just low enough so only Spencer could hear him. Spencer laughed harder and nudged Jon with his shoulder.

“Come on,” Spencer said, “Chelsea’s pretty.”

Jon nodded. “She’s alright,” he said, blanching a little as the words echoed in his head. Not exactly the sentiment to be having about someone he was supposedly dating. He wasn’t really sure what they were doing, actually. Over the summer he’d liked her, enjoyed hanging out with her, but something had changed since then and now Jon spent most of his time with her wondering what he was doing.

Spencer didn’t make a comment about it and Jon was grateful, he didn’t know what he would have said if Spencer had asked.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday was Jon’s only afternoon that he didn’t have to work and he was looking forward to going over to pick up the newest Blue October record that had just come out yesterday. Maybe he’d invite Spencer, he thought and grinned at his reflection as he brushed his teeth.

Jon found Spencer by his locker, sitting on the floor with his text book open across his lap. He looked up, his face breaking into a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling a little, his mouth soft.

Jon slid to the floor next to Spencer. "So, want to hang out this afternoon? We can go to Everyday Music, I can show you that record I was telling you about."

"Yeah, great," Spencer nodded.

"Cool," Jon grinned. "What are you working on?"

Jon leaned in close to Spencer so the kid could get his locker open. Spencer went still.

"Sorry," Jon mumbled, their faces suddenly a lot closer.

"It's okay," Spencer mumbled, the words barely loud enough for Jon to hear over the suddenly deafening thump of his heart in his ears.

Spencer smelled really good. Weirdly good, this unisex mix of musk and trees, like he'd been rolling around in a field all day. Jon held his breath to keep from inhaling and sniffing Spencer and freaking him out.

The kid retrieved his books and disappeared and Jon scooted over, leaving more space than before.

Spencer bent his head back over his book.

Jon watched the way his hair swept forward, hanging in his eyes. Spencer's throat was pale, disappearing into the neck of his t-shirt. Jon took in the hunch of his shoulders, the slope of his neck.

"Um, I gotta go," he blurted suddenly, standing abruptly. "I'll, uh. I'll see you after school?"

Spencer blinked up at him, confused. "Um, okay?"

"K," Jon mumbled and took off.

 

* * *

 

Everyday Music was one of Jon's favorite places in Portland, and there was something about walking through the massive store with its collection of rare and vintage vinyl with Spencer that Jon really liked.

"What about this?" Jon said, holding up a worn, ragged copy of the Kinks. "Have you listened to this? I fucking swear, this is one of the best fifty bucks I ever spent."

Spencer peered over Jon's shoulder. "Yeah, Ryan has this on CD, he played it for me a few years ago."

"Nice, I knew there had to be a reason you were friends with him," Jon teased.

Spencer elbowed Jon in the stomach. "Be nice, he's weird as fuck, but he's my best friend."

Jon laughed harder and shoved Spencer playfully. "Hey, I've got one of those, he's probably even stranger than Ryan."

"You’re talking about Brendon, right?" Spencer said, turning to rest his hip against the case of records while Jon continued flipping through the collection.

"Yeah,” Jon grinned, shaking his head, amused.

"We have a couple classes together, he's my partner in French lab. He never shuts up about you, actually."

Jon laughed. "No, he just never stops talking in general."

Spencer was looking at him quizzically, head tilted like he was trying to figure something out.

"What?" Jon said, pulling a copy of the Grateful Dead's first album out and holding it up for Spencer.

"Nothing, I don't know," Spencer hesitated, taking the album from Jon. "He's not someone I would have expected you to be best friends with."

Jon saved his breath, he'd spent most of his life fielding comments like that, people wondering why they were friends.

"Yeah, well, he's the best guy I know," Jon said it plainly, without the defensiveness that used to be there.

"He thinks the same about you," Spencer said, handing the album back to Jon.

"You know," Jon began, nudging Spencer to scoot over so he could flip through the Ps, "I could say the same thing about you and Ryan."

Spencer scowled and then his face changed, catching himself. "Yeah," he said and it sounded resigned, a sigh. "We just get each other."

Jon nodded, knowing what that was like. Sometimes, he didn't have to open his mouth and he knew that Brendon just understood.

"It's kind of nice," Jon said, "having someone like that. I mean, Tom's my best friend too, but it's not the same. We hang out, and he makes me laugh, but with Brendon I don't have to try."

Spencer was watching Jon, a quiet look on his face. "Yeah," he said softly, after a bit.

"So," Jon said abruptly, holding up his pile of records. "What are you getting?"

Spencer showed Jon the new copy of the Libertines' latest. "Ryan's been talking about how he can't find this anywhere. Maybe now he'll fucking shut up about it."

They paid for their purchases and walked out onto Burnside, the sun already beginning to sink low over the hills.

"I'm starving," Jon said, holding the door open. "You want to grab some pizza? Bellagio's has two for one for Lincoln students."

Spencer agreed. "Man, I swear you guys have it so nice," Spencer said as they headed up the busy street, back over towards the high school. "The only thing close to Wilson is Nature's."

Jon grinned, holding his palms up all "what can you do."

Bellagio's was emptying out with the after school crowd, just a couple of students Jon recognized sitting in the corner.

"You're only having one?" Jon said when Spencer ordered.

"Yeah, my mom expects me home every night for dinner, she'll be pissed if she thinks I already ate."

"Do you have a big family?"

Spencer shook his head, "just twin sisters, they're a few years younger than me. Mom's real big on family time."

Jon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of pizza. "I get it, my mom is too, but now that my brothers are at college, it's just me and my parents, so we don't do that so much anymore."

The conversation lulled as they ate their pizza sitting against the window, as it slowly got darker.

"Do you want a ride home?" Jon asked, standing up to clear his garbage.

Spencer hesitated.

"I don't mind," Jon assured him, thinking he really didn't, he liked hanging out with Spencer, it was refreshing and unexpected.

"Okay, thanks," Spencer smiled, corners of his mouth tilting up.

The ride over the bridge to the east side was relatively clear, late afternoon traffic mostly gone.

"What do you do for fun on the weekends?" Jon asked as he merged onto the Steel Bridge.

"Mostly I hang out at this place called Sid's," Spencer said. "It's this coffee shop on Belmont. Ryan's been working there for a while now, they have open mic night and we pretty much spend the weekend there." Spencer looked over at Jon. "You should come. We're always there."

"Maybe I will, I'll bring Brendon."

"Cool," Spencer grinned, "I like him, he's a funny guy."

Jon laughed. That was putting it mildly.

Jon couldn't figure out what it was about Spencer that Jon liked so much. He was sharp, he had a quick tongue, but there was something in his manner that endeared him to Jon in a way he wasn't used to.

Jon pulled onto Spencer's street, trying to remember which house was his. He idled at the curb and Spencer reached for the door.

"I'll see you at lunch tomorrow, right?" Jon said abruptly, wincing inwardly at how stupidly eager he sounded.

Spencer grinned, nodding. "Yeah, Ryan'll be thrilled," he said dryly. His eyes went soft, his voice dropping slightly as he said, "thanks for the ride."

Jon swallowed and nodded. "No problem," he said, mouth suddenly dry.

Jon watched Spencer let himself into the house and sat there long after he'd disappeared, staring into space.

 

* * *

 

Jon spent Saturday morning running around Portland with his dad, doing errands and inwardly rolling his eyes at his dad's attempt at father-son bonding. To be fair, Jon liked spending time with his dad, but sometimes it seemed like he forgot Jon was eighteen, and not in elementary school anymore.

After lunch at Jon's favorite Mexican restaurant, they headed home and Jon picked up his car to drive over to Brendon's.

Mrs. Urie was in the kitchen when Jon came through the side door.

"Jon!" she said, a smile spreading across her face. "We've missed you." She came over to give him a hug and he grinned at her. "I came to kidnap Brendon, is he here?"

"He's upstairs, probably practicing to be the next Mick Rogers," she said, shaking her head like she just didn't understand. Jon tried to bite back his laugh and failed, snorting.

"It's good to see you, sweetie, you should come around more often."

"Thanks, I've just got a lot going on," Jon said, taking the can of Coke she offered to him.

"Brendon's told me about your job, good for you. If Brendon would just get his license," she trailed off. "Well, I'm sure you boys have lots of plans for the day, don't let me keep you."

Jon took the stairs two at a time to Brendon's room and found him lying on his bed on his beck, his upper body hanging off the side, feet in the air, listening to some alternative country band that made Jon's ears ring.

"Hey!" Jon called, standing in the door, shoulders shaking.

Brendon stilled, tilting his head further back so he could see Jon. Brendon smiled, scrambling to his feet to turn the music off.

"Your mom thinks you're up here practicing your ‘Mick Rogers’ moves," Jon said, laughing as he remembered the way she'd said it.

Brendon made a face. "Shit, I've told her a thousand times, Mick Jagger, jeez."

"Come with me," Jon said, leaning against the door.

Brendon looked over his shoulder from where he had a foot propped on the bed, pulling on his shoe. "Where are we going?"

"Spencer told me he and Ryan hang out at this place on Belmont," Jon shrugged. "I thought we'd go bother them."

Brendon straightened suddenly. "Jon! You **do** love me," he sighed, pleased.

"Yeah right, I'm just looking for a replacement for your position, I've decided to fire you."

Brendon bounded over and threw his arms around Jon's waist, stretching up on tiptoes until their foreheads were touching. "Please," he said, going slightly cross eyed, "you can't live without me."

Jon bit back his grin and slapped Brendon on the ass. "Hurry up, you move slower than my grandma," Jon urged.

Brendon threw his head back, laughing. "I've met your grandma, everyone moves slower than her." This was true, Jon acknowledged, considering she celebrated her seventy-fifth birthday by throwing herself out of an airplane.

"Come on! Move your ass," Jon said, pushing Brendon away.

"Hmm, you're eager." Brendon gave Jon an amused look. "Any reason?"

"Being in your room makes me nervous, I never know when you might try to put the moves on me," Jon threw out flippantly.

Brendon grinned. "You should definitely be worried about that, I want you bad."

Jon sighed. "I know, it's a curse and a blessing."

Jon finally managed to herd Brendon out of the house without much more than a couple empty threats and then Brendon had to fidget with the radio, adjust his seat several times and get the windows rolled down to exactly the right height, biting his lip and grinning the whole time, knowing he was annoying the shit out of Jon.

"You're lucky I feel sorry for you," Jon muttered, pulling out of the Uries' driveway. "Sometimes I think I've lost my mind."

Brendon just laughed and pushed his feet up onto the dashboard.

It was close to two when they pulled into the parking lot of Sid's.

"Ryan works here?" Brendon asked, climbing out of the car. The back wall of the building Sid's was in was a painted mural in a rainbow of colors. Brendon was taking it in, looking impressed.

"That's what Spencer said," Jon slammed the door shut and followed Brendon into the cafe.

[Master Post](http://enoughoflove.livejournal.com/388836.html)

[part one](http://enoughoflove.livejournal.com/385847.html)

 

It was bigger than Jon was expecting, and had the feel of having once been a warehouse, a painted concrete floor, exposed brick walls and wooden beams.

The front wall was glass window front, a set of low shelves running the length of the room with used books, old board games and local newspapers and magazines. There was a mix of overstuffed armchairs and sofas, tables and chairs and a couple of booths towards the back, with the kind of plush upholstery that made you want to lie down and take a nap.

To the right of the door was was a little stage, across the room from the coffee bar and deli case.

Jon stood in the doorway, scanning the room.

"There's Spencer," Brendon said, gesturing to the corner where a sofa and several arm chairs were positioned around an old wooden coffee table.

"Hey," Jon said, coming over to sit on the edge one of the chairs. Spencer looked up from his book, a smile lighting up his face as he took in Jon, and then Brendon.

"Hi, you came," he said, sitting up and setting aside his book. Brendon came and sat down next to Spencer, bouncing a little.

"Yeah, hope it's okay," Jon said. Spencer's hair was mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it. He was wearing pink today. Jon didn't know many guys who could pull off pink, but he couldn't help thinking that Spencer definitely could.

"Yeah, of course," Spencer said, almost eagerly. "Ryan's working and I'm just hanging out."

"Well, good," Jon said a little awkwardly.

Brendon was peering off towards the bar and he stood up suddenly, tugging the hem of his t-shirt down.

Jon shook his head, biting back his smile.

"What?" Spencer said, looking at him curiously.

"I'm really sorry," Jon said, face solemn.

Spencer quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

"Brendon's decided Ryan's going to be his first boyfriend." Jon tried not to laugh, but ruined it.

Spencer let out a startled choke of laughter, surprised. "And that's bad?"

Jon shook his head, earnest. "You don't understand. It's not just bad, it's really, really bad. Brendon doesn't know what ‘no’ means. He doesn't give up. Ever."

Spencer looked like he thought Jon was overreacting.

Jon shook his head sadly and Spencer grinned. "You'll see," Jon told him.

"I thought you said he came out to you when you were twelve," Spencer said quietly, watching Brendon across the room gesture wildly to the barista.

"Well, yeah," Jon nodded, "but he's sort of. Um, how I do I say this? He's kind of ridiculous?"

Spencer shook his head, obviously finding Jon to be the ridiculous one.

"I mean, I'm not even kidding, he has a whole file of ‘research’," Jon says meaningfully, hoping Spencer got it without Jon having to say it out loud. "But he's never done anything with anyone, he's waiting for something, I'm not really sure what."

"Wow," Spencer said, stunned, "you know way too much about him."

"Shut up," Jon laughed. "You try being his best friend, it's not like I can just shut my hearing off."

"So, is that reading for school or for pleasure?" Jon asked, gesturing to the book beside Spencer.

Spencer looked surprised. "Pleasure, it's one of the books of collected poems of Jack Kerouac," he said.

"No shit, is that Book of Blues?"

"You've read it?"

"I never wanted to be a writer, but he always makes me wish I was."

Spencer was looking at him oddly. "I know," Jon shrugged. "It's weird to me too."

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything bad by it, you just always surprise me."

"Yeah, well, you surprise me too," Jon said quietly, unable to look away. Spencer's eyes were really light today, he'd noticed that in the few weeks they'd known each other, the way Spencer's eyes seemed to change shades of blue with the weather or his mood.

He cleared his throat, suddenly, feeling warm. "I'm gonna get something to drink," he mumbled, standing up. "Do you want anything?"

"Hmm?" Spencer started, color blooming on his cheeks. He looked down for a moment, lips moving in words Jon couldn't make out. "I'm good," he said when he raised his head again.

Jon shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. "Okay then," he said.

Brendon was leaning on his elbows against the counter. Jon bumped him with his hip. "Are you behaving?" Jon teased. Brendon had his chin resting in his hands, eyes following Ryan around.

"I always behave," Brendon said, clearly distracted.

Jon rolled his eyes.

Ryan came over to take Jon's order and he appeared to be ignoring Brendon but his face had more color it in than it usually did, and Jon thought how weird it was to see Ryan blush. It didn't look natural on him.

Jon took his iced coffee back to the sofa and sat on the opposite end, far enough away from Spencer that three other people could fit between them. It felt like the safest place to be, aside from outside, around the block.

“Tell me something,” Spencer said abruptly.

“Hm? What?” Jon looked up, startled.

Spencer shrugged, sheepish. “I don’t know, tell me something, anything.”

Jon tilted his head. “Um, I play guitar,” he said with a shrug, not really sure what Spencer was going for.

But Spencer’s face lit up, his eyes bright and his mouth curving in a sweet smile. Jon tried to rack his brain to think of something else that might get Spencer to look at him like that again.

“You do?” he laughed, shaking his head. “Me and Ryan, we had a band in middle school.” He got this look in his eyes, remembering.

“What do you play?” Jon asked, resisting the urge to scoot closer.

“Drums, and Ryan plays guitar. We were fucking awful,” he laughed.

“We should play together, sometime.” Jon said, smiling. “Brendon thinks he’s the next Freddie Mercury.”

“I should have known,” Spencer smirked.

Brendon came back over, bringing a ceramic mug that looked like it was filled completely with whipped cream. He was looking smug.

“I’m totally his favorite,” he sighed, sinking down in a chair, and bringing the mug to his lips.

Jon caught Spencer’s eye and they smiled at each other.

"Jon," Brendon said loudly, kicking out to catch Jon's attention.

"What, are you six?"

Brendon smirked. "I'm hungry."

Jon sighed. The problem with a hungry Brendon was, it would be the only thing Jon heard about until Brendon got fed. It was a lot like taking care of his aunt's crotchety old poodle.

Spencer gave Jon a sympathetic smile. "We can go grab something from around the corner, Ryan's probably hungry too. Hang on, I'll go ask him what he wants."

"You're my favorite Spencer Smith," Brendon smiled, putting his chin in his hand and all but batting his eyelashes.

"You're the most ridiculous person ever," Jon rolled his eyes.

"Jon, I think I'm breaking Ryan down," Brendon said, sitting upright and leaning across the coffee table.

"Why, because he gave you extra whipped cream?"

"I know these things," Brendon insisted. "You think Ryan is the type of guy to give extra whipped cream to anyone? Not likely."

Jon just stared incredulously at Brendon until Brendon shrugged, face breaking into a smile. "It could happen," he said softly. "I'm not a terrible guy to love." The last bit came out a little unsure and Jon wanted to kick himself.

"Yeah," he said, reaching out for Brendon's wrist. "Come here."

Brendon shuffled around the table and let Jon pull him down to the arm of the sofa, so he was half in Jon's lap. "I'm going to say this once, and then you can forget that we ever had this conversation, okay?"

Brendon was looking at him, his brown eyes a little sad. He nodded.

"Ryan would be lucky to have you," Jon said quietly, tucking his chin against Brendon's shoulder. "Don't fucking forget it."

Brendon sighed. "I was wrong," he mumbled, mostly a whisper, "you're my favorite."

"Yeah, you're kind of mine, too." Jon agreed, squeezing Brendon tighter.

Spencer cleared his throat. Jon looked up and Spencer was watching them, looking alarmed, as if he wasn't sure what he'd interrupted.

"All set?" Jon said smoothly, standing up and pulling Brendon up with him.

"Uh, yeah" Spencer hesitated. "Ryan wants a veggie burger, if that's okay with you guys. There's this cafe around the block that has everything you could possibly want."

Brendon wrapped his arm around Spencer's waist and took off with him, pulling Jon by the wrist.

"Bye Ryan," Brendon called over his shoulder.

Jon looked back at Ryan who was blinking at Brendon, as if wondering where he'd come from.

Jon ducked his head, hiding his smile and followed Brendon.

They grabbed their food to go and when they got back, Brendon made Ryan take a break and come sit with them.

"You can sit with me," Brendon said from the arm chair he was sitting in, patting his thigh hopefully. Jon thought he saw a hint of smile threaten to break across Ryan's face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared and Ryan just sat in the chair next to Brendon.

Brendon pouted until Ryan reached across to grab a handful of Brendon's sweet potato fries like he did this everyday.

Brendon went still, looking so completely surprised that Jon resisted the urge to reach across and close Brendon's mouth for him.

"What are you guys doing after this?" Spencer mumbled around a mouthful.

Jon shrugged. "There's this party at one of Chelsea's friends' houses, I'm probably going to check it out." Jon had completely forgotten he'd promised he'd see Chelsea there. He hadn't actually thought about her all day.

Brendon made a face. "Boo, thumbs down," he muttered, a dark look furrowing his brow.

Spencer chuckled. "Not a fan?"

Brendon shrugged. "The androids scare me," he mock whispered and from beside Brendon, Jon swore he heard Ryan let out a surprised laugh that turned into a choking sound.

Jon and Brendon said goodbye to Spencer and Ryan and Jon drove Brendon home in silence. Brendon was in his own world, no doubt thinking about Ryan.

"Hey," Jon said, reaching out to catch Brendon's wrist. "You're kind of important," he said quietly. "Be careful with him."

Brendon looked surprised, speechless, which wasn't a look Jon was used to seeing on him. "Thanks," he said after second, quietly.

"I'll see you at school," Jon said and Brendon nodded.

The party was in full, chaotic swing when Jon pulled off the dirt road and into the driveway of the massive house.

"Hey! It's about time you showed your face, Walker," Adam shouted from above the din. He handed Jon a plastic party cup and Jon nodded his thanks.

He found Tom in the backyard, lying on a lounge chair with Holly.

"Chelsea's been looking for you," Tom said, holding his fist out to bump Jon's.

"Guess I'd better go find her," Jon agreed, sparing a hello for Holly and pushing back through the throng of people.

"There you are," she said when he found her in the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters as her friend Emma stood at the sink, washing her face.

"Emma had a bit of an accident," Chelsea said, gesturing to the remnants of puke in the garbage can. Jon grimaced. "Thanks for the warning, " he said, pulling Chelsea down off the counter.

"Hi," she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're late."

"Yeah, sorry," he shrugged, brushing his lips across hers. "Family stuff."

"You're here now, want to go upstairs?"

Jon nodded and took her hand, following her through the living room up the stairs to several empty bedrooms.

 

* * *

 

Jon was going to kill Brendon. He was going to have to think of the most painful, brutal death imaginable, nothing was going to be punishment enough for being woken up after too little sleep, Brendon sitting on his chest and peering into his face, singing loudly, some ridiculous song Jon remembered from summer camp.

"Get off me," Jon groaned, pulling his pillow over his eyes.

Brendon bounced a little, causing the air to get trapped in Jon's lungs.

"Fuck," Jon hissed, pulling the pillow from his face and using it to smack Brendon as hard as he could.

"Ow," Brendon said, though he didn't sound like he was in much pain.

Jon opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling and trying to focus on counting to ten. That didn't work so he counted to twenty.

"Jon, get up, we have to go back to Sid's," Brendon urged, bouncing again.

"Seriously, get the fuck off me," Jon muttered, rolling to his side and dislodging Brendon.

Brendon lay sprawled on his back, legs in the air. "If I buy you breakfast and coffee will you stop being a grump?"

"And you'll pay for gas?" Jon said, turning to look at Brendon who was all big pleading eyes and pouting mouth.

"Yes," he nodded eagerly.

"Fine," Jon sighed and stumbled to his feet. "Let me take a shower, I reek."

"Hurry up," Brendon whined, flopping his arms against the mattress.

"One of these days I'm going to kill you," Jon said under his breath.

Twenty minutes later Jon wasn't quite as pissed off. He was freshly showered, he had his coffee and a breakfast sandwich from Jack in the Box. All was right, except for the fact that Brendon was chattering on about Ryan and Jon was tempted to leave him on the side of the road.

Jon was strangely disappointed when they walked into Sid's and Ryan informed them that Spencer wasn't there yet.

"I think he's on his way," Ryan said like he was reassuring Jon.

Jon threw his backpack on the sofa and claimed the end. "Brendon, can you get me another?" Jon pleaded, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes.

Spencer showed up half an hour later when Jon was engrossed in a reading for his history class.

“Thank God you’re here,” Jon sighed, relieved when Spencer sat down on the couch opposite Jon.

Spencer grinned.

“You have to save me from boredom. And history,” Jon gestured toward his pile of books with a grimace.

“Hey, so I brought you something,” Spencer said, pulling his backpack across his lap and digging inside.

He came up with an old copy of a book worn around the edges. It was Dharma Bums, the first edition.

“Holy shit,” Jon gasped, mouth falling open.

“Sorry it’s not in good shape,” Spencer said, apologetically, “it used to be my dad’s.”

“Wow, this is really great, I’ll get it back to you as soon as I’ve read it, thanks.” Jon said, taking the book and wishing he didn’t have hours of history reading to do.

“No, it’s for you,” Spencer said earnestly. “I have a different copy, that one’s yours.”

Jon didn’t know what to say. He blinked and sat looking for something to say that meant more than a simple ‘thank you.’ He couldn’t think of anything so he settled for “thanks.”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed pink and he shrugged it off. “No problem,” he said, no big deal.

 

* * *

 

The week leading up to Homecoming Jon tried a number of times, and with a number of different bribes, to get Spencer to agree to come to the damn dance.

“Look,” he said brightly, cornering Spencer after break right before third period. He held up a large coffee, hazelnut with whipped cream, Spencer’s favorite. He hoped.

“Aww,” Spencer said sweetly, “thanks, and no, I’m still not coming. But thanks for thinking of me.” He ducked his head, grinning, and took off down the hallway towards his next class.

“You’re not welcome,” Jon yelled after him.

His stomach did this strange flip flop thing as Spencer turned back to look at him and just laughed, grin splitting his face.

“Okay then,” Jon mumbled beneath his breath.

 

* * *

 

Jon spent the day of homecoming with Ryan, Spencer and Brendon at Sid's and left them at five, making a face.

"Have fun!" Brendon said brightly, his chin tucked against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan was scowling and looking like he was trying not to throw Brendon off. "Take lots of pictures so we can see how hot you look."

Jon gave Brendon the finger and pushed past Spencer, who reached out as if to touch him and then pulled back on second thought. "Have a good time," Spencer said with an encouraging smile.

"Thanks, call me later?"

Spencer titled his head back to look up at Jon, a small smile curving his lips. He nodded.

Jon felt weird, a knot in his stomach, a fluttering maybe. He gave Spencer a smile of his own that felt tight and took off.

His mom was waiting for him when he got home. "I picked the corsage up from Zupan's, Chelsea will love it," she said, rushing out into the hall and holding up a red tie. "I saw this at Macy's the other day, I think it would look lovely on you."

Jon sighed a put upon sigh, feeling like some kind of dress up doll. "Mom, you promised you wouldn't make a fuss."

"Who's making a fuss? I just thought this would look nice with your eyes." Her eyes were twinkling, she looked pleased with herself.

Jon let out a breath and took the tie from her with a mumbled, "thanks."

"You're welcome, now hurry and get dressed so I can take some pictures of you to send your Mamie, she'll be thrilled to see you in your grandfather's coat."

Jon trudged up the stairs, thinking about Brendon and Spencer and wishing he hadn't felt the need to be a part of this stupid tradition.

Tom and Holly and Bill and Dave and their dates were meeting him and Chelse at the Thai restaurant on Broadway before the dance.

Jon was grimacing at his reflection in the full length mirror in his parents' bedroom when his phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Spencer. "Have fun 2nite, come to Sids 2morrow."

Jon grinned and hit "reply." "I look like my dad, kill me."

A minute later there was another. "Bdon sez he bets u look hot."

Jon took a last look at his mirror image and shrugged. "Not bad," he texted back, smiling to himself.

His mom and dad were waiting for him with the camera ready when he came down the stairs.

"You look handsome, sweetheart," his mom said, beaming at him.

His dad took a couple pictures of him alone and then one of him with his mom.

"You don't want to be late," she said, ushering Jon out the door with Chelsea's corsage.

Chelsea looked really pretty, her hair curled around her shoulders, her skin kind of shimmering.

"You look good," he told her. She beamed, and he felt a twinge of guilt.

Jon's phone buzzed again as they were waiting for their entrees. Jon felt a rush and flipped open his phone.

It was from Spencer, like he'd hoped. "U were right, Bdon is persistent."

Jon bit back a laugh. Chelsea was leaning over talking to Holly so Jon hit "reply." “What's happening?"

Jon sat back, waiting and looked over at Tom who grinned at him, wriggling his eyebrow. Jon smirked.

The next text from Spencer said, "I think hes tryin to woo Ryan?"

Jon snorted out loud and shook his head, wishing he was there instead of at this table of people who were his friends but who he had never felt further away from.

 

* * *

 

Jon made it through an hour of tacky decorations, chaperones monitoring distance between couples as they danced and the lame late nineties pop the DJ was stuck on.

A little before nine he curled his fingers around Chelsea’s wrist and pulled her out where the music wasn’t quite as loud.

“Can we get out of here?” he asked, trying to keep from looking too much like he was pleading.

Her face lit up and Jon felt like kicking himself. He was pretty sure leaving her at her house was not what she was expecting.

When he pulled up to the curb of her house, idling, she gave him a confused look.

“I uh, I have a family thing,” he said lamely.

“Okay, you know what?” She said, turning to look at him. “I’m not an idiot. I know you’re not interested anymore.”

Jon opened his mouth and she cut him off. “It’s fine, it’s not like we’re in love or anything. But you could have had the balls to say something instead of stringing me along.”

Something softened in her expression. “Thanks for trying to play along, even though it’s pretty clear you weren’t into the whole thing. It was fun for a little while.”

She gave him a sad smile and let herself out of the car.

 

* * *

 

"Wow," Spencer said softly, looking up at Jon, taking in his tie and coat.

Jon shrugged. "I don't clean up so bad," he said with a smile.

"Um, so, what are you doing here?" Spencer said, looking a little confused.

Jon was asking himself the same thing. There was a girl who wanted to be with him, a party he should be at with his friends and instead he was here. Again. It felt like he spent all of his free time here lately.

"I don't really know," Jon admitted with a shake of his head. "The dance was boring as fuck and I kept thinking how much I'd rather be here with you." Spencer's eyes widened, looking pleased and Jon blanched. "You guys, with you guys," Jon blurted.

"Well," Spencer said, his eyes gleaming, "you're just in time. It's not as fun watching Brendon try to flirt with Ryan by myself."

Brendon was by the counter, his hoodie tied around his waist backwards, like an apron and he was wiping down the counter.

"Uh," Jon choked on a laugh. "What's he doing?"

Spencer bent his head closer to Jon to look around him. "I was hoping you'd tell me," he said, looking genuinely concerned. "Maybe it's some weird mating ritual I've never heard of? I can ask my anthropology teacher on Monday." Spencer's shoulders were shaking, a silent laugh that made his eyes look like they were shining.

"He's a really good guy," Spencer said when he'd stopped laughing. He had moved to the edge of the sofa, his books spread out on the coffee table. He was bent forward, one hand braced flat on the table. It made his t-shirt ride up a little, the line of his back curved. Jon cleared his throat and sat back against the pillows, looking back towards the counter where Brendon was rearranging the sugar canisters.

He'd seen Brendon infatuated before. It usually passed, Brendon didn't seem to have much of an attention span when it came to relationships. If Brendon throwing himself into a one-sided crush could be counted as a relationship. Ryan was like a shiny new toy to Brendon, and sooner or later, when nothing happened, he'd move on to the next preoccupation. And Jon would be there for that too.

"And someday, someone is going to see that," Jon said quietly, eyes still on Brendon.

He watched Brendon lean across the counter to tell Ryan something.

"You care about him a lot."

It took Jon a second to pull his thoughts back and realize that Spencer was giving him a look, quietly appraising, that Jon couldn't quite figure out. He shrugged. "He's my best friend."

Spencer opened his mouth, about to say something, and then he seemed to think better of it.

"The funny thing is," he said after a little while. "Ryan's falling for it."

Jon looked up sharply. "What? He's completely ignoring Brendon."

Spencer let out a sigh that sounded weary, like this was a conversation he'd had before. "Yeah, well. Ryan's a little...stunted." Spencer bit his lip against a smile and Jon watched him disappear into his thoughts for a second.

After a minute, Spencer said,”look,” and gestured to where Brendon was leaning on the counter talking a mile a minute at Ryan who was fixing drinks and looking bored. “He’s listening to everything Brendon’s saying. If he wasn’t, he’d be looking right at him, trying to make it look like he was listening.

Ryan was looking down, eyes focused on the milk steamer but now that Jon was paying attention, he could see the slight pink on Ryan’s cheeks.

“Huh. It’s sort of weird how you know that.” Jon shook his head, pretty sure he could have a lifetime to get to know Ryan and he’d never understand him.

Spencer smiled, a soft curve of his lips that made him look younger.

“So what,” Jon said, wincing at how sharp his voice sounded suddenly. “Is this a game he plays?”

Either Spencer didn’t notice or he chose to ignore the change in Jon’s tone. “Ryan doesn’t play games. But he’s not going to do anything either, this is all Brendon.”

“Well,” Jon relaxed a little. “Get ready for a long fall. Brendon doesn’t give up. Ever.”

“Then this should be pretty fun,” Spencer grinned.

"You want anything?" Jon asked, getting to his feet.

Spencer shook his head. "Thanks, though," he mumbled, bending back over his book.

Jon came up behind Brendon, putting a hand on his hip, tucking his chin over Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon whipped around, startled. He looked confused for a second and then his face broke into a grin. "Hi, what are you doing here?"

Jon shrugged. "I missed your stupid face."

Brendon pushed his elbow back into Jon's stomach.

"What are you doing?" Jon said quietly, his mouth hovering near Brendon's ear.

"I'm keeping Ryan company," Brendon said rather loudly.

Ryan was wiping down the counters. He had his hair flat ironed again today, his bangs pulled off to the side of his face, hanging in one eye.

"Hi Ryan," Jon nodded at him. Ryan looked up, eyes narrowing as he took in Jon's hand on Brendon's hip.

Jon grinned. Huh, Spencer was right.

He let go but he didn't step away. "Can I have a latte?"

Ryan looked like he was going to argue but he snapped his mouth shut and nodded, spine rigid.

"Remind me never to piss Ryan off," Jon said shaking his head when he came back to where Spencer, his latte in hand.

"It probably doesn't seem like it at first, but yeah, he has a pretty wicked temper." Spencer shrugged, a rueful smile on his lips.

Jon’s phone rang then, startling him. “Dude, what the fuck happened with you and Chelsea?” Tom cut in as soon as Jon answered.  
 Jon grimaced. He made an apologetic face at Spencer and went outside to let Tom rant at him.

“I just took her home,” Jon said quietly, aware of the busy street and the Saturday night crowd out enjoying the warm weather.

“You fucking killed my chance with Holly tonight. Chelsea called her.”

Jon winced. “Uh, yeah, shit. Sorry about that.”

“So what was so important that you had to cut out early?”

“Nothing, I just wasn’t feeling it.” Jon could hear how lame that sounded even to himself.

Tom was silent.

“I’m sorry I ruined your night,” Jon said feeling sheepish, like a chastised child.

There was another moment of dead silence and then Tom said in a short, clipped tone, “you’ve been weird lately.”

Jon straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. What? “No, I haven’t. I just didn’t want to be at the stupid fucking dance. Fuck.” He was gritting his teeth, he realized. He relaxed his jaw and took a breath that felt a little shaky.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Since when do you turn down a chance to get laid? Especially with a girl like Chelsea.”

Jon blew out a breath. It was like trying to have a rational conversation with a fire hydrant.

“Okay, you know what? I don’t want to have this conversation right now. I’m hanging out with friends, so I’ll catch up with you on Monday.” Jon ended the phone call before Tom could say anything else.

Jon couldn’t remember the last time he’d hung up on anyone and he didn’t think he and Tom had ever gotten into it without some sort of immediate resolution.

Jon waited until he didn't feel quite so worked up before going back inside. Brendon was sitting next to Spencer, his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands as he listened to something Spencer was saying.

Jon's smile took him by surprise, though it probably shouldn't have. Brendon had been cheering him up for close to eleven years, in quiet, subtle ways that Jon hadn't ever put much thought into.

Spencer stopped talking when he looked up and saw the expression on Jon's face. "Everything okay?"

Jon shrugged and sat in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. "I might have pissed off a couple people by leaving early," he admitted. It was something that seemed to be happening a lot lately.

 

* * *

 

Jon spent Sunday with Tom. They drove out to the teriyaki place on Cedar Hills Boulevard and they didn’t say much to one another until Jon finally said, “look, I know I’ve been different. Maybe I’m just restless. Senioritis or something.”

Tom had his head bent over his rice bowl and he looked up, mouth full. “You’d tell me if anything was going on with you, right?” He said when he’d swallowed.

Jon blinked. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever needed to tell Tom anything. They were close, but that’s what Brendon had always been for. Tom was his best friend, but Jon hadn’t ever thought of him as anyone he wanted to confide in. Not that Jon had anything to confide.

He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Tom looked at him hard for a second and then he nodded once, mollified.

“I know you know this,” he said as they were leaving. “But you gotta fix things with Chelsea.” He smiled a rueful smile. “And not just for me and Holly.”

“I will,” Jon agreed, and couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do less.

 

* * *

 

"Hey," Jon said at lunch on Tuesday, nudging Spencer.

Spencer looked up from his homework he was catching up on, hair falling in his eyes. Jon resisted the urge to reach out and sweep them off his forehead. He bit his lip.

"Do you want to come over tomorrow? We can listen to that album I was telling you about." Jon said it quietly, just for Spencer's ears.

Spencer blinked. "Yeah," he nodded.

"Okay," Jon smiled. Spencer's eyes faltered, drifting down for a brief second and then he was dragging them back up, cheeks faintly pink.

 

* * *

 

Jon gave Brendon a ride home on his way to work and listened to Brendon talk about how tragic it was that Ryan was straight.

"Okay," Jon sighed as he pulled into Brendon's driveway. He braced an arm across the back of Brendon's seat and leaned forward. "If you tell him I told you this, I will absolutely deny it and then I'll kill you."

Brendon did everything but bounce in his seat, eyes wide, giddy. "I promise," he breathed, beaming.

"Spencer says Ryan's into you."

Brendon's mouth dropped open and Jon watched, stunned, as color bloomed high on Brendon's cheeks.

"Huh," Jon said, sitting back. "I've never seen you blush before."

Brendon ignored him. He had disappeared off into his own land and Jon didn't think it likely that he was coming back anytime soon. Jon shooed him out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he called through the open window, shaking his head as Brendon tripped over his own feet and nearly face planted on the stairs.

 

* * *

 

"You should have seen him," Jon laughed into the phone, driving down Vista after work.

He could hear Spencer chortle over the line, the reception weak. "I wish I had, I bet it was priceless."

"He was gone, the minute I told him he was off in la la land, probably planning the wedding."

Spencer snorted and Jon smiled, picturing him shaking his head and smiling.

 

* * *

 

"Um, Mom, this is Spencer," Jon said, introducing his mom.

"Spencer, it's a pleasure to meet you," his mom said warmly, shaking Spencer's hand. "Dinner's at six," she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the kitchen.

"She's nice," Spencer said as he followed Jon up the stairs.

"Tell me you saw last night's American Idol," Jon said, flopping onto his bed on his belly.

Spencer grinned and sat gingerly at the edge of the mattress when Jon gestured encouragingly. "My sisters are sort of addicted, so we watch it with my mom."

"Oh come on," Jon rolled his eyes, "admit it, next to Gossip Girl, it's the best show on TV."

Spencer smirked. "Sometimes I can see why you and Brendon are such good friends."

"There's no denying good taste," Jon said, nodding his head. "So hey," he said, rolling to his feet and reaching for his iPod. "My speakers aren't working," Jon said as he remembered. "Uh, I hope this is okay." He moved so he was lying on his belly and held out one of the earbuds to Spencer.

Spencer sat, blinking for a second at Jon before he kicked out of his shoes and rolled to his stomach. "Thanks," he mumbled, grabbing the earbud from Jon and pushing it into his ear.

"You're going to love this," Jon said, scrolling through his list of albums. "It'll change your life, I swear."

Jon hit play and closed his eyes as the beginning guitar riff slid down his spine just the same as the first time he’d heard it.

Jon opened his eyes to glance at Spencer. He had his arms folded beneath him, cheek resting on his hands, eyes closed. His face was slightly tilted up, this incredibly warm, peaceful expression making him look younger.

Jon rested his chin in his palm and just watched Spencer.

It was one of the sexiest songs Jon had ever heard, he still remembered the first time his older brother had played it for him, the way it made him feel.

Lying here on his bed with Spencer like this wasn't any different than the hundreds of times he'd done this with Brendon or Tom, except it was in the way Jon felt as if he was hearing this song for the first time all over again, watching Spencer listen to it, the way his face changed.

The song ended and neither of them moved. "Uh," Jon said intelligently, his throat dry. He didn't know what to say and he didn't want to move. He played it again.

Spencer made a low, pleased noise like a purr almost and rested his cheek on the bed, face turned towards Jon, eyes closed. His cheeks were pink, his lower lip a little swollen like he'd been chewing on it.

Jon took a breath meant to steady him but he inhaled and all he could smell was Spencer, a little like soap, a little salty like maybe he'd been sweating, but clean. It had been a while since he'd gotten hard listening to this song, since he realized this is what sex sounded like. But he was, his dick trapped uncomfortably. He shuddered and tried to hide the press of his hips against the mattress. It was the song, that was it, nothing to do with the fact that Spencer was less than a foot from him and he smelled good.

Jon closed his eyes and tried to block everything out. He concentrated on playing the cords in his head, counting the beats. It worked enough that he felt he could take a steady breath and open his eyes.

And then it was just as intense all over again, Spencer's face suddenly closer than he remembered, his lips wet and parted, eyes closed and face tilted up like he was having a religious experience. That was about how Jon felt the first time he'd listened to the album.

Suddenly, Jon wanted nothing more than to be alone.

He moved to get up and Spencer opened his eyes, startled, clearly having forgotten where he was, forgotten about Jon. He flushed red and looked down, eyes unfocused.

Shit. Jon didn't want to embarrass Spencer. He'd been lucky enough to have an understanding older brother. Spencer was pushing himself up and Jon reached out, unthinking, and grabbed his wrist with the intention of telling him it was okay, of pushing him back down. But Spencer was startled and Jon pulled too hard and Spencer ended up falling sideways with a surprised breath, bracing himself at the last second with his hand on Jon's shoulder, their thighs pressed together.

Spencer's eyes widened, panicked. Jon groaned as Spencer's knee came up between his thighs, making it clear that Jon was hard.

He closed his eyes, head falling back against the mattress and tried to will the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

But Spencer was shaking, his fingers curled into Jon's arm barely holding him up and Jon could feel how hot his cheeks were but he shook it off.

"Hey," he said softly, opening his eyes. Spencer was still except for the shaking, eyes wide and looking at Jon, face red.

Jon watched from somewhere in the back of his mind as his hand came up to cup the back of Spencer's neck, fingers curling in the sweat damp hair. He lifted his head, brought Spencer closer and brushed his lips across Spencer's, a brief, closed mouth kiss that did nothing to calm the heat and adrenaline rushing through him. If anything, Spencer's sharp exhale, the slight hitch in his throat, the faint stickiness on his lips, it all made Jon harder.

Jon waited for Spencer to pull away, to freak out. He waited for his own freak out which was going to come as soon as he could think with his brain again. But Spencer didn't move, not to pull away and not to kiss Jon back, he just held himself as still as possible. But Jon could feel how fast his heart was beating, he could feel how warm Spencer's skin was. He changed the angle and kissed Spencer again, a little longer this time, parting his lips over Spencer's, teeth catching the sensitive flesh on the inside of Spencer's lower lip. Spencer's arm gave out then and he slipped, fell against Jon with a sharp intake, and there they were, lined up and pressed together everywhere it was possible to be.

Spencer was panting and he felt like a skittish rabbit, hovering over Jon and looking like he was going to flee. Jon waited for the rational part of his brain to come back, to make himself push Spencer off. Instead, when Spencer's mouth moved, lips parting, breath warm against Jon's mouth, Jon curled his fingers harder in Spencer's hair, placed the palm of his other hand flat, low on Spencer's back where the skin was warm and damp, and licked at the place his teeth had been, the soft inside of Spencer's full lower lip.

Spencer shuddered and opened his mouth, shifted his weight to his other knee, forcing himself more firmly against Jon. Jon was almost a hundred percent sure this was Spencer's first kiss. He was also positive this was the hottest kiss he'd ever experienced and they'd done nothing more than share breath so far.

Jon's dick was doing all the thinking for him. It was just as well since once his brain reappeared, he was going to be due for a huge meltdown. But for now, he used his hold on Spencer's neck to tilt Spencer's head back just enough that he could lick along the seam of Spencer's lips until Spencer shook and shuddered his tongue came out, licking his own lower lip. Jon touched the tip of his tongue to Spencer's, used the leverage to slide it, wet and slick, against Spencer's.

Spencer relaxed, let his weight settle on Jon so he could feel the heat of Spencer's skin even through two layers of cotton.

Jon's thumb stroked over the hollow at the base of Spencer's skull. He kissed Spencer until he couldn't remember why this wasn't supposed to happen.

And then Spencer made a low noise in his throat and pulled away. Jon opened his eyes. Spencer looked absolutely wrecked. His face was flushed, his skin damp, hair hanging in his eyes. And if Jon had never known what arousal looked like, all he had to do was take a look at Spencer.

"Okay." It took two tries to make the word come out, his throat was hoarse, his voice gone. It was the response to a question no one had asked.

Jon fell back against the mattress and forced both hands to the bedspread, fingers curling and holding on to keep from reaching for Spencer again. He stared up at the ceiling and tried to count to ten. It didn't help so he counted again. Finally he said, "if you give me a few minutes, I'll take you home."

Spencer moved abruptly, remembering where he was, straddling Jon. "Uh, okay," he nodded, voice nothing but a whisper.

Jon rolled to his feet, did nothing to hide the fact that his dick was hard, pushing against the seam of his jeans since Spencer could have no doubt how turned on Jon was, and disappeared into the bathroom.

He considered getting into a cold shower, clothes and all and standing there until he was freezing and he was no longer a breath from coming his brains out. Instead, he leaned against the door, grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the hamper, and unzipped his jeans. He shoved his hand into his underwear, palm damp with sweat, and hunched his shoulders. It took less than a minute, several frantic, clumsy strokes and he was coming, teeth digging into his lip to keep from making noise. He caught most of it in the t-shirt, used it to clean himself off and tucked himself back into his jeans. He shoved the shirt towards the bottom of the laundry basket and turned to catch a look at himself. He smelled like spunk, but more than that he looked like he'd just whacked off in the bathroom while Spencer was on the other side of the door, thinking who knew what.

He splashed his face with cold water, washed his hands and sprayed himself with some of the flowery body spray his brother's girlfriend had left over the summer.

He wasn't fooling anyone, he thought as he stepped back into his bedroom. Spencer was sitting with his back to Jon, hunched over himself as if in pain. Jon grimaced, feeling like an asshole for a million reasons.

"You ready?"

Spencer looked up. Jon braced a hand on the door behind him to keep from crossing the room and pushing Spencer back to the bed. He didn't look as if he'd calmed down any. If anything, he looked _more._

Spencer nodded, lip caught in his teeth. But he didn't move. Awareness, recognition, flooded Jon with heat all over again. He turned his back to Spencer, grabbed his keys and took off down the stairs to give him the decency of being able to pretend he wasn't trying to hide an erection.

They didn't say anything on the drive to Spencer's. Jon rolled all the windows down with the pretense of being warm and Spencer was too polite, or embarrassed, to comment.

Jon idled at the curb. Spencer mumbled a quick "thanks" and let himself out of the car.

Jon watched him go and wondered if it was too late to transfer schools. Maybe he could go to Grant.

He'd been sitting at the curb in front of Spencer's house for ten minutes, he realized with a start. He was freaking out.

He dug into the pocket of his jeans for his cell phone and found Brendon's number. "coming over" he sent before he could think about it and put the car in drive.

Spencer's house, in southeast Portland, was twenty minutes from Brendon's, right around the corner from Ainsworth where they'd gone to elementary school together.

Brendon was waiting for him on the front porch when Jon pulled into the driveway. He was wearing his pink hoodie, the hood pulled up. "My parents are asleep," he said quietly, when Jon came up the steps.

Jon followed Brendon through the front door and into the kitchen. "I was making pancakes," Brendon said, gesturing at the mess on the counter.

Jon shaped his mouth into the form of a grimace meant as a smile.

Brendon's eyes widened. "Forget the fucking pancakes," he said, grabbing Jon's wrist and pulling him in for a hug. Jon held himself rigid, aware that he probably smelled like crap. Brendon didn't say anything, just curled his fingers in Jon's and pulled him up the stairs.

"Okay," Brendon said, all quiet concern, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jon stood where he was, by the door, just inside the room. Brendon waited. Jon thought about the way Spencer’s mouth had felt against his, the stickiness on his lips, the slide of his tongue.

"I kissed Spencer," he said suddenly, and curled his hands into fists, fingernails digging into his palms, to keep from fleeing.

But it wasn’t the whole truth. What had happened felt like a fuck of a lot more than a kiss. It was Spencer laid out above him, the press of his knee against Jon’s dick, the warmth of his skin beneath Jon’s palm, the sweet hitch in his breath when Jon’s tongue found its way inside his mouth.

A kiss was easier to explain, so he left it at that.

Brendon was unmoving. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking a little like Jon had just put his fist in Brendon’s stomach. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn't the hurt in his eyes, or the way his face completely shut down in a way Jon hadn’t ever seen before.

"When?" he said and his voice was flat, emotionless and Jon couldn't figure it out.

"Tonight, twenty minutes ago. I just, I needed to tell you. Why are you mad?"

Brendon closed his eyes. Jon watched as he sat completely still, like he was meditating, or counting to a hundred. When he looked at Jon again, his eyes were sad, but he didn't look angry.

"Okay," he said, scooting up the bed until he was leaning against the headboard. He gestured to the space next to him and Jon sat, pulling his knees up.

"I didn't know you liked him like that," Brendon said. He looked small, suddenly, smaller than usual. He had his arms around his bent knees, his cheek on his folded arm.

"I didn't either," Jon whispered. There was something he was missing here and he couldn't pinpoint it. It wouldn't be the first time something big went over his head.

He sighed and pulled Brendon against him, an arm around his shoulders. "Ryan likes you," Jon mumbled, pressing his mouth to Brendon's hair.

Brendon sighed but he relaxed a little into Jon. "This is not about me," he said, "but thanks."

They sat like that for a few minutes until whatever was going on inside of Brendon had seemed to calm a little.

"So what are you going to do?" He asked softly, lifting his head to look at Jon, his brown eyes a little watery.

"Nothing," Jon said. "I'm not gay."

"Yeah, I knew you were going to say that." Brendon said it with such a hollow look in his eyes, an angry lilt to his voice that Jon felt like he might throw up.

"Why are you pissed?" He asked after a minute, still confused, waiting for something to become clear.

"Why did you even come over here, Jon? Why did you tell me? What do you want from me?" Brendon asked quietly.

"You're my best friend. I needed to tell you."

"Why, because I'm gay?"

Jon scrambled off the bed, suddenly ticked. “No, dick, because I tell you everything. Because even if you weren't gay you'd understand and you wouldn't make me feel like shit. At least that's what I thought."

"Look," Brendon said, sounding a little shaky, "don't go. I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of that. I think. I think you just took me by surprise."

Jon stood there, looking at Brendon's defensive posture and he felt like whatever it was he was missing was right there he just couldn't grasp it.

"Come on," Brendon said, "stay with me. I'm sorry."

He pulled Jon back to the bed and they lay down, side by side, like they used to when they were in elementary school and they'd share all their secrets in the dark.

"I lied," Brendon mumbled after a while when Jon thought he'd fallen asleep. "I thought maybe you did like Spencer. Just. The way you look at him, the way he makes you smile. I knew." Jon didn’t know if it was sleep or something else that made Brendon’s voice sound small and far away like that.

Jon said the most honest thing he'd ever said out loud. "I don't want to."

Brendon took a shaky breath. “I know that, too.”

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Jon regretted last night with every bone in his body. He'd dreamed of Spencer, mostly abstract images that didn't make a whole lot of sense but left Jon panting and hard, sweaty and fucking miserable.

Worse was when he got to school, less than five minutes to run to his locker before second bell, and Spencer was waiting for him, eyes smiling, looking well rested and happy.

He was sitting on the floor in front of Jon's locker and he looked up, smiling when he saw Jon. He got to his feet and leaned against the row of lockers, watching Jon retrieve his books. Jon slammed the locker shut and turned to go without a word.

But Spencer wasn't Chelsea, or anyone else Jon had dated or fooled around with. He reached out and grabbed Jon's wrist, no longer happy and smiling.

He was stronger than Jon gave him credit for and he yanked Jon's arm back.

"That's it?" he hissed, all traces of his good humor gone. "That's what I get?”

He didn't look hurt, he didn't look like he might cry. He looked _pissed_.

"Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- "

"Fuck you," Spencer said but it was low, laced with venom. There was no theatrics here. Jon should have known he wouldn't get that with Spencer.

Jon yanked his arm away. He couldn't look at him.

"You didn't have the fucking decency to say hi, to treat me like a fucking person." His jaw was rigid, his eyes flashing, bluer and angrier than Jon had ever seen. He took a step back and something crossed his face, and it was that hint of disappointment in his eyes that made Jon's stomach bottom out.

Spencer turned and took off, walking down the hall with his shoulders back, defiant, daring anyone to say anything.

Jon's day got worse after that when Brendon pulled him into the girl's bathroom in the art hall.

He hoisted himself up so he was sitting with his ass in the sink, pink Converses kicking against the pipes. He didn't look particularly upset but Jon knew better.

"Well, fucking say something," Jon scowled, throwing his backpack on the tiled bench by the windows.

"I'm not Tom," he said very quietly, dangerously low.

Jon bristled. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means I'm _not_ Tom. I'm not going to let you slide by, I don't make excuses for you, I don't let you get away with being an asshole and I know what's going on inside your head." Brendon wasn't yelling, but he sounded pained.

"You don't have any clue-" Jon started but Brendon cut him off, rolling his eyes. "You're scared. You think kissing Spencer makes you gay. You think your fucking so called _friends_ will drop you if you date a guy, and you've never felt this way about anyone. You're terrified."

Jon stared hard at Brendon but he just shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, legs still swinging. "I've known you since I was five years old. I know things about you you won't even admit to yourself. I'm the one person in your life who doesn't need you to be anything than what you are. So quit pretending I can't see right through you."

It had always been one of the things Jon loved best about Brendon. Brendon loved Jon unconditionally, but he'd never let him get away with the excuses and all the other shit Jon pulled to keep from having to own up to his shortcomings and the things he hated about himself.

"He'd never tell you this, and he didn't say anything to me because he's too proud," Brendon said quietly, "but you fucking _hurt_ him. So you better figure out what you want, and then you'd better find a way to make things right with him. Because you are so much better than that guy. You are _not_ that guy."

"Are you done?" Jon sighed, exhausted.

"Yep," Brendon said, nodding.

"Fine." Jon grabbed his things and took off.

 

* * *

 

The next day Jon found Spencer in the cafeteria, at a table in the corner with Ryan and a couple of other sophomores. Ryan stood up abruptly as soon as he saw Jon, pushing his way through the tables to corner Jon.

"I need to speak to him," Jon said quietly.

"He doesn't want to talk to you," Ryan said sharply, unmoving. It wouldn't take much to lift Ryan out of the way, he looked like he weighed all of ninety pounds. But he wouldn’t go quietly and Jon hated scenes. It didn't matter though since Spencer was coming up behind Ryan, face closed off.

"Can I talk to you please?" Jon asked.

Spencer turned and walked in the direction of the narrow corridor off the cafeteria, towards the dungeon.

He stood, defensiveness in every line of his body, with his back against the wall.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You know what? I don't even know why I was surprised. Ryan warned me about you."

Jon felt his face get hot. That stung, but it wasn't any less than he deserved.

"Can you just, keep this between me and you?"

"Wow," Spencer said, "you're an asshole."

"I just -"

"I know what you mean," Spencer grit out, eyes flashing. "I'm not going to tell anyone, you fucking dick."

Jon opened his mouth and Spencer shook his head, cutting him off. "Save it, I don't care." He spun and took off down the dark corridor. Jon watched him go feeling like he'd lost something bigger than he could really comprehend.

 

* * *

 

The thing about Brendon was, no matter how pissed or disappointed or hurt he was, he let you know about it. Brendon didn't do silent treatments.

He sat down next to Jon where Jon was sitting in the grass out back with Tom and Bill and the others. He opened his little brown lunch bag, pulled out his apple and his sandwich and handed Jon one of the vegan oatmeal cookies his mom had made.

"Thanks," Jon muttered. Brendon nodded, took a bite of his apple and turned towards Bill to ask him when his parents were going out of town again.

 

* * *

 

Jon came home from school and found his mom in the kitchen.

"Hey, Mom, can I talk to you for a second?"

His mom looked alarmed. She finished washing her hands and gestured for Jon to sit at the table. She joined him, looking concerned.

"I was thinking, do you think it'd be okay if I go to Seattle this weekend to stay with Nick?"

His mom relaxed slightly. "Is everything okay, honey?"

Jon nodded, lying. "He has tickets to a Sonics game," Jon said, figuring simpler was better.

"Let me talk to your father about it, but I think that'll be okay. Your brother's coming home next weekend, I know you'll want to be here for that. But I think it's a good idea."

Jon blew out a breath. "Thanks," he mumbled and headed upstairs.

He sent his cousin Nick a text. "mom says ok."

He left on Friday after school, barely missing the traffic over the bridge into Vancouver. It didn't rain, for once, and the drive up I-5 was nice, the mountains coming into view as the city rose up before him.

His cousins lived in West Seattle, in a quiet bohemian neighborhood a block from the water.

Nick came running out of the house when he heard Jon pull up. "Fucking finally, I thought you'd gotten lost."

Jon felt better than he had in weeks.

They drove downtown for the game, the five of them piled into the cab of his uncle Mike's truck. They ate pizza at Roma's and later hotdogs and popcorn during the game.

Jon and his brothers came up here every summer, and his cousins came down to Portland for a trip to the coast every August. Jon found himself wishing he could stay for a while. It was simpler up here, everything made sense away from the drama and stress of the last few months.

"You going to tell me what's going on?" Nick said when they were in bed, Jon in the bunk bed they'd never gotten rid of. He could remember being eight and sleeping in the top bunk, leaning down over Nick to whisper to each other long after they should have been asleep.

"It's nothing," Jon mumbled, folding his arms under his head and staring at the ceiling where he'd written "Jon J. Walker" in second grade.

"Bullshit, I know you didn't drive up here because everything's fine."

Jon yawned. "Life's just gotten a little complicated lately."

Nick snorted. "Tell me about it. Remember when we were in elementary school? You'd come up here and we'd talk about how cool it was going to be when we were in high school, when we were adults. I'd like to go back there. What a bunch of fucking idiots we were."

Jon laughed. He did remember those times. High school was a lot more complicated then he'd imagined, though it was his experience that things usually turned out that way.

"Is this about a girl?" Nick wanted to know.

Jon hesitated. "No, not a girl," he said quietly, and held his breath, waiting.

There was a reason he'd come here. They used to joke about sharing a brain, when they were younger, always knowing what the other was thinking. Trust Nick to get it.

"What's his name?" he said, rolling to his side to look up at Jon.

"Spencer," Jon whispered, forcing his eyes on the ceiling.

He'd known, before he decided to come up here, that telling Nick wouldn’t be like with Brendon. Nick didn't have any expectations.

"Is he...?" Nick trailed off.

"No. At least, I don't think so. But he's interested."

"Have you done anything?"

Jon took a breath and held it. "Kissed," he mumbled.

"You're really messed up about this," Nick said, sitting up.

Jon sighed. "Everything's so fucked up, I don't know what to do."

"But you like him.”

Jon frowned. “Yes,” he said with a little more force than he’d intended. He was pretty sure that part was obvious.

“And you’re worried what people are going to think.” Nick didn’t say it with any judgement, just put it out there as fact.

Jon let out the breath he’d been holding. “Lincoln’s not really the type of place where guys walk around holding hands.”

Brendon was one of a handful of openly gay students and Jon was nowhere near as comfortable in his own skin as Brendon.

“Is that what this guy wants you to do?” Nick was sitting with his legs over the side of the bed, looking up at Jon with an expectant look on his face.

“What? No,” Jon said, caught off guard.

“So figure out what he wants. And then figure out what you want. And then stop freaking out so loudly so I can get some sleep.” Nick said the last bit with a smile. “Though,” he said, eyes going serious again. “It kind of sounds like to me like you already know what you want.”

“That’s what scares the shit out of me,” Jon admitted, rolling to his side.

 

* * *

 

Jon wasn't sure that his weekend in Seattle had really fixed anything.

It rained the whole four hour drive back into Portland, the steady, heavy rain that made the road blur in front of him. By the time he pulled into his driveway, it was close to eleven and he had a headache that had spread all the way down his spine, tension in every bone in his body.

His mom was waiting up for him, sitting in the living room in her sweats, dozing against the pillows. He'd texted her to tell her he'd be in late and not to wait up. But he'd known better.

"Mom," Jon said softly, shaking her gently as he bent over her.

She blinked up at him. "Hi honey," she said, getting to her feet to kiss his cheek. "Lock up behind you, we can talk in the morning."

Jon had six missed calls from the weekend, having kept his phone on silent. Two from Tom, three from Brendon, one from Chelsea.

Jon didn't want to face any of it.

He trudged up to his bedroom, threw his things haphazardly on his bed and stripped out of his wet, grimy clothes.

The water was as hot as his skin could stand and he stayed under the spray until he'd all but fallen asleep, leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

Monday mornings had always brought a sense of dread with them, a knot in the pit of his stomach at having to go back to school and face teachers and early mornings and all the tedium of high school. This was a different kind of tension sitting heavy in his stomach, knowledge that tomorrow he'd see Spencer and have to try to find a way to get him to listen.

Jon still didn't know what he was going to say, or what he wanted.

Jon stepped carefully out of the shower, his limbs feeling more like liquid with exhaustion. He got into an old pair of sweats and climbed into bed, ignoring the homework he had neglected this weekend.

He reached for his cell phone.

"im back," he sent off a quick text to Brendon and Tom and turned off the light, rolling to his stomach. It took him less than five minutes to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

The rain had stopped when Jon woke up, but the sky was an ominous grey that promised a storm before the day was out.

Jon lay in bed, trying to get the nerves to settle. His phone beeped at him and he reached for it to read the text waiting for him. It was from Brendon. "We missed you," was all it said. Jon had no idea who "we" was.

He deleted the text and rolled to his feet. The week stretched out in front of him, interminable.

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Jon didn't see Spencer until Wednesday, and by that point he was irrationally annoyed, tired of looking around every corner for him. And worse, tired of thinking about him when he should have his mind on other things.

Jon finally ran into Spencer after fourth period as he was rushing down the stairs to the cafeteria to grab lunch quickly so he could try to use the forty minutes to catch up on the English reading he hadn't done over the weekend.

Jon rounded the corner and ran headlong into Spencer who was leaning against the wall outside the boys' bathroom, head bent over a book.

"Shit," Jon gasped before he could stop himself.

Spencer raised his head, a startled look on his face quickly changing to one of annoyance.

"Sorry," Jon mumbled and took off before Spencer could say anything.

Jon risked a glance backwards. Spencer was staring blankly in his direction.

Jon grabbed his food and a table in the corner of the cafeteria. "Homework," he'd texted Tom when he asked if they were eating together.

Jon shoveled his pizza into his mouth and tried to focus on Toni Morrison. But his mind kept wandering to Spencer. He'd looked good, a pair of impossibly small dark jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had been brushed with glitter, his hair swept off his forehead.

"Can you believe they ran out of cookies?" Brendon said suddenly, loud, making Jon jerk his head up in surprise. Jon's lips formed a smile before he realized Brendon wasn't alone. It turned into a grimace as Ryan stood still, shoulders back, a look of irritation on his face.

Brendon straddled a chair backwards and plopped his books on the table. He gestured at Ryan, some weird wild movement of hands that apparently meant that Ryan should sit. Ryan did, though he didn't relax.

Jon bit his lip to keep from saying something that would make him seem like more of an asshole and pushed his tray in Brendon's direction. "Have mine," he mumbled and bent back down over his book.

Brendon didn't say anything but Jon could practically _feel_ him bouncing in his seat.

Jon couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was staring daggers at him. Frustrated, he looked up and said sharply, "what?"

Ryan's face didn't change. "I'm just trying to figure it out," Ryan said in a voice that made the room feel like it the temperature had dropped a few degrees.

"Figure _what_ out?" Jon hissed impatiently.

"What he sees in you." Ryan's voice was deadly quiet. He stood up abruptly, reached out to touch Brendon on the shoulder and took off through the maze of tables.

Jon blew out a sigh. "Don't say anything," he warned Brendon.

Brendon was watching him, picking the chocolate chips out of his cookie. He shrugged.

Jon sat at for the rest of lunch, staring at the same sentence and finally gave it up as a lost cause.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week crept by. He failed a chemistry pop quiz, inadvertently insulted Chelsea's best friend Holly, had to work over time at Strohecker's to cover for a co worker who didn't show up and didn't sleep for more than an hour at a time, thanks to weird, abstract dreams involving Spencer and Brendon.

The rain came with the last bell of the day, the skies opening up and letting loose the kind of rain that had you soaked and chilled to the bone the minute you stepped outside.

Jon tugged the hood of his rain coat up, ducked his head and darted through two lanes of traffic at a standstill towards his car.

He took fourteenth street towards Burnside and stopped at the light. Spencer was standing at the corner, waiting for the bus, his own coat pulled tight around him. He looked miserable, teeth clenched, head bent against the rain.

Jon watched him for a minute and before he could talk himself out of it, he was rolling down the window.

"Want a ride?" He shouted, trying to be heard over the noise of the rain on the roof of his car and the rush of traffic and horns blaring.

Spencer turned sharply, startled. His eyes narrowed, his chin came up a fraction of an inch and he shook his head.

Jon thought of letting it go, but he knew how far from school Spencer lived and it was getting colder.

"Get in the damn car," Jon sighed, putting the car in park and wrenching the door open. The light had changed to green and behind him people were leaning on their horns. Jon ignored them.

Spencer didn't move though Jon could see the defensiveness fade a little at the pull of the warmth of the car.

Jon was thinking of getting out of the car and shoving Spencer into the front seat when Spencer seemed to make a decision and came sloshing over, climbing with a grimace into the car.

Neither one said anything at first. But Spencer was shivering, Jon could practically hear his teeth chattering. He turned the heat up. "Take off your coat," Jon said quietly. They were at red light and Jon turned to help pull the slick, wet material clinging to Spencer.

"Better?" Jon asked.

Spencer was staring straight out the window. He nodded.

Jon let out a breath but didn't say anything else.

The traffic over to the east side of the river wasn't as bad as Jon had been fearing, but the tension in the car was making Jon antsy, a headache already building at the base of his skull.

"Look," Jon said suddenly, taking a detour onto a narrow side street. He jerked the car to a stop.

Spencer looked up sharply, startled.

"I'm sorry," Jon blurted, turning to look at Spencer.

It was the wrong thing to say. Spencer's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

"Look, I shouldn't have led you on like that," Jon said quietly, "I knew it couldn't be anything and I let it happen. I kissed you anyway. I'm sorry for that." He let the silence fill the car as Spencer just sat there, saying nothing, but not looking away either. He was looking right at Jon, and Jon couldn't for the life of him figure out what Spencer was thinking.

"And I'm sorry I was such an asshole that morning." Jon said the last part as barely more than a whisper, remembering. Ashamed.

Jon thought that was all he'd wanted to say but something about seeing Spencer wet and cold, looking oddly vulnerable made Jon open his mouth again.

"I wanted to." It was an admission he hadn't planned on making. "I was watching you listen to that album and you looked like, fuck, you looked _amazing._ " He watched Spencer's eyes widen, the pink flush was back.

"I panicked," Jon admitted. "The next morning, it was all I could think about, and I fucking freaked. And I'm sorry for that."

"Is that it?" Spencer asked quietly, the only thing he had to say in response to everything Jon had just told him.

Jon figured he probably didn't deserve anything else. He put the car in drive. "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's it."

The rest of the ride to Spencer's house was quiet. Jon pulled to the curb and watched Spencer shrug into his coat and grab his things. But he didn't move. "Maybe," Spencer said quietly after a minute, "you could give me a ride tomorrow?"

It was unsure, a question. But it was a peace offering. Jon felt something like relief flood him and he nodded, a little too enthusiastic. "Yes, I'll see you at 7:45?"

Spencer didn't smile but something in his eyes softened. "Thanks," he said.

Jon watched him go.

 

* * *

 

Jon picked Spencer up on Friday morning with a mug of coffee he'd convinced his mom to make.

"Thanks," Spencer said when he climbed into the car, taking the cup from Jon with a grateful sigh.

The ride to school wasn't calm or easy but the tension from yesterday seemed to have dissipated a little. They listened to Jon's iPod and Jon felt better than he had since before the kiss.

"Thanks for the ride, and the coffee," Spencer said when Jon had found a parking spot around the corner from Lincoln.

"Do you want to eat lunch with us?" Jon asked suddenly.

"Maybe some other time," was all Spencer said. Jon let him go. He'd gotten more than he deserved, he knew. Spencer was talking to him again. But despite all the confusion, it didn't feel like enough. Jon couldn't help the disappointment that it wasn't what he wanted.

Tom was waiting for him in their usual seats in Chemistry when Jon skidded in a few seconds before the bell.

"We're going to smoke up at Dave's tomorrow," Tom said, leaning across the aisle to whisper to Jon.

"Cool," Jon said, bumping his fist with Tom's. A sudden image of Spencer flashed into his head, his smiling eyes, his flushed skin. He wondered what Spencer would look like, high. Jon spent the entire fifty minute period staring into space, thinking about whether or not Spencer had ever smoked up before, and what Jon would have to do to not only convince him to try but also talk him into spending an entire afternoon with him. Jon didn't think he had much of a chance of either happening.

But when Jon met Chelsea and Holly and Tom at the lockers for lunch, Spencer was already there, sitting on the other side of Jon's locker, space enough for three people between him and Chelsea. He looked like he was a second from fleeing.

Jon was so surprised to see Spencer there he was pretty sure the smile on his face made him look ridiculous.

"Hi," Jon said, once he'd slid to the floor next to Spencer and was sitting comfortably with his back against the locker. Spencer didn't say anything.

Jon didn't know if he was forgiven. What he did know was the way he'd felt, seeing Spencer sitting there with his group of friends, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, but there because Jon had asked him.

For all the indecision and drama of the last few weeks, Jon felt like a decision had been made for him just then, a subconscious choice.

"Thank you," Jon said just soft enough for Spencer's ears alone. Spencer pulled back sharply, eyes wide.

And Jon felt like an ass again because inadvertently he'd jerked Spencer around. Spencer had no reason to give Jon a second chance. But here he was anyway.

Jon didn't try to say anything else to Spencer, though he made sure to include him in the conversation as much as he could. As the first bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Jon got to his feet. He held out a hand unthinkingly to pull Spencer up. Spencer took it, and Jon wrapped his fingers around Spencer's wrist, where the skin was warm and thin, and pulled him up. Spencer stumbled, foot tripping against Jon's book bag, still on the floor, and he ended up pressed against Jon's chest. Jon put a steadying hand on Spencer's hip but Spencer scrambled away a second later. He grabbed his backpack and took off down the hall without another glance back at Jon.

Chelsea was leaning against Jon's arm, her chin tucked over his shoulder. "He's weird," she said.

Jon didn't say anything.

 

* * *

 

Spencer was waiting at Jon’s locker after the last period.

“Hey,” he said quietly, still mostly aloof, still obviously hurt. “I just wanted to say thanks again for the ride, and let you know we're going to be at Sid's this weekend, obviously.” He took a breath and tilted his head, eyes guarded. “You could come, if you wanted."

He left it at that, up to Jon.

"I have plans," Jon said, wishing he hadn't told Tom he'd go over to Dave's.

Spencer's face was unreadable. "Okay," he shrugged. "See you on Monday."

Jon was still staring blankly in the direction Spencer had gone when Brendon came up behind him, arms locking him in a hug.

"Hey," Jon said, smiling softly. "You ready?"

Brendon squeezed his arms tighter around Jon's middle and pressed his face to Jon's shoulder.

"Hey," Jon said softly, "you okay?" Jon tried to move so he could turn around and look at Brendon but Brendon held him still.

"Fine," Brendon mumbled against Jon's back. Jon finally got Brendon to step back enough that he could pull him against him in a real hug.

Jon wasn't going to complain, he liked Brendon's hugs, but he was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hey,” Jon whispered against Brendon’s hair. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Brendon didn’t say anything, and if held on a little tighter, Jon figured that was okay by him.

 

* * *

 

Tom dragged Jon to a movie with him and Holly, insisting it was important to help him get over Chelsea. “You’ve been in a shitty mood ever since she dumped you,” Tom said on the way to the theater. Jon didn’t bother correcting him.

Jon sat through a spectacularly awful action flick starring some muscle head who used to be a wrestler and did his best to drown out the sounds of Tom and Holly trying to swallow each other’s face next to him.

Tom tried to convince Jon to come smoke up at his house but Jon gave some sort of lame excuse and let Tom drop him at his house.

He was in a weird, restless mood. He climbed into his car and sat there in front of his house with the engine on and the radio off.

After a few minutes he dug out his phone and sent a quick text to Spencer before he could think better of it. “want to go for a drive?”

His palms were sweaty, he felt like he might throw up and still, there was nothing but relief when Spencer typed back less than a minute later with a simple “yes.”

Spencer was sitting on the front steps of his house when Jon pulled up.

“Let’s go to the beach,” Jon blurted, as soon as Spencer had climbed into the car.

He raised his eyebrows, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious. Now?”

Jon had no idea what he was doing. It was rainy, and cool, they both had curfew in an hour. Yet, all he wanted to do was go to the beach. Now. With Spencer.

Even in the dark, Jon could make out the quiet, speculative look on Spencer's face. "Okay," he said with a tilt of his head after a minute. "Give me a second." He got out of the car and Jon watched him walk slowly back into the house.

There were no less than three reasons this was a terrible idea. But Jon was feeling restless, he needed to get out. And he wanted Spencer with him.

Spencer was back a few minutes later.

"What'd your parents say?" Jon asked. Spencer was a good kid. Jon had no doubt Spencer had been in there letting him know not to expect him until late.

Spencer busied himself with pulling the seatbelt over his shoulder and securing it with a click that seemed loud in the small car. "Nothing. I told them I was staying at Ryan's house." Spencer's chin went up, shoulders back, daring Jon to say something.

"Okay," Jon said.

Jon couldn't decipher the tension in the car between them. Neither of them said much as Jon took highway 26 west towards the coast. It wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, but there was something in the air between them that made Jon feel like he was holding his breath.

"Thanks," Jon said after a while. The car was warm, Spencer had his legs underneath him, his head back against the seat and Jon was feeling better than he had since he'd gone and fucked everything up.

Spencer turned, startled, to look at Jon. "For what?"

Jon took a second, blew out a breath, shrugged. "For this."

Spencer looked surprised but after a beat he said softly, "you're welcome.”

Jon drove on auto pilot out towards Canyon Beach and the small strip of public beach a few miles south of Rockaway. It was past eleven when he pulled the car into the empty parking lot.

Jon grabbed his hoodie and rain coat from the back seat. The rain had stopped and the wind had dried things off so that when Jon pulled his shoes and socks off, the sand was cool but dry beneath his toes.

Spencer was bundled up in a dark hooded sweatshirt that was a couple sizes too big for him. It made him look smaller, more vulnerable. He watched Jon take off his shoes for a beat before he followed, stuffing his socks into the pockets of his sweatshirt.

The Oregon coast, especially like this, at night, was Jon's favorite place to be, always. The moon was three quarters tonight, already high up in the sky. The clouds had dispersed enough that the moon shone bright on the water, illuminating the beach enough to see where they were headed.

"Wow," Spencer mumbled, stumbling over his own feet as they made their way down the slope towards the water. It was accidental, Jon could tell from the way Spencer's shoulders hunched that he hadn't meant to say anything.

"Yeah," Jon agreed.

They walked up the beach, a fair distance between the two of them, Jon's face lifted up towards the sky, head back, unable to take his eyes off the millions of tiny stars. He took a deep breath that he felt all the way down to his toes, and spread his arms. The wind whipped around them, the roar of the waves drowned everything else out and Jon just took it all in.

"You want to sit?" Jon asked eventually. They'd walked close to three miles along the water, small, modest houses to their left, the waves to their right. The readout on Jon’s phone said it was past midnight.

Spencer nodded and let Jon lead them to the dunes, where the sand was dry and brush rose up around them like a nest.

Jon leaned back on his elbows, burrowed his bare feet in the cool, dry sand and closed his eyes.

The wind whipped around them, not too cold but comforting in a way.

Jon used to come here with Brendon when they were little, both of them running headfirst toward the water, having forgotten since the last time how brutally cold it was, no matter the time of year.

It felt different with Spencer, sharing this place with him, this beach. It felt like _something_.

“I’m really, _really_ sorry,” Jon said suddenly, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to say anything, to bring it up again. Spencer seemed okay with letting it drop, the whole thing, and Jon had thought that was okay by him. But now, here at this place with Spencer, it didn’t feel like enough to just pretend he hadn’t been an asshole.

He opened his eyes when he felt Spencer shift, not away but closer, close enough that he could feel Spencer’s body heat.

“Jon,” Spencer said quietly. “Don’t.”

Jon struggled up off his elbows, leaning forward, wanting to make things right between them again.

Spencer cut off whatever it was Jon had been about to say, and whatever that was he wasn’t sure, touched Jon’s shoulder briefly.

“This, whatever it is that’s going on between us, and I know you feel it too, it’s huge. It’s intense. It makes sense that we freaked out.”

“You freaked out?” Jon mumbled a little hoarsely. Spencer’s eyes looked really weirdly light, intense.

Spencer rolled his eyes and grinned a little ruefully. “Ask Ryan about how I made him come over after you dropped me off that night.”

“I was such an asshole that morning, though.” Jon’s chest felt tight suddenly, like he couldn’t breathe.

“Yeah,” Spencer agreed, smiling a small, sad smile. “But I could have been a little more understanding, I think.”

“Don’t,” Jon said then, grabbing Spencer’s hand, curling his fingers around Spencer’s wrist. “Don’t be all forgiving and shit, I don’t deserve it.”

“Jon,” Spencer muttered, “shut up. If I want to be forgiving and shit, then I’m going to.”

Jon huffed, a startled laugh. He ran his thumb over the inside of Spencer’s palm, a little absently.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jon admitted suddenly. It seemed like the least he could do.  
 “We’re kind of a mess about this,” Spencer agreed, a mumbled jumble of sound. Jon hadn’t realized how close they were until Spencer dropped his head, forehead resting on Jon’s shoulder for a brief second before he seemed to realize it and moved to scoot away. Jon’s hand came up, palm flat to rest on Spencer’s back, reassure him that this was okay.

They fell asleep eventually, right there in the dunes, legs tangled for warmth, Jon’s fingers curled in Spencer’s.

 

* * *

 

A chill woke Jon. It took him a minute to get his bearings, last night coming back to him as he opened his eyes. It wasn't quite morning, a dim gray light had started to creep up. Jon was lying on his side, legs curled beneath him, hood pulled up over his hair. Spencer was in the same position, facing Jon, his mouth open in sleep.

His hair was swept off his forehead, his face completely relaxed, peaceful as he slept. Jon shivered as the wind picked up, sending a rush of cool air down the back of his sweatshirt. Spencer moved, curling closer towards Jon, looking for body heat.

Jon hesitated for a second before lifting his arm to wrap it around Spencer's shoulders, pulling him in until Spencer's legs were scissored between Jon's, the way they’d fallen asleep together.

Jon took a shaky breath and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, it was morning. It was cloudy, no sun around to make things warmer. Jon yawned and felt Spencer shift awake.

"Morning," Jon mumbled, sitting up slowly. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach. He'd deliberately ignored his parents' request that he call them, and he'd not only missed curfew, he'd stayed out all night. He was going to be in so much trouble.

"What?" Spencer said quietly, taking in Jon's frown.

"My parents," Jon grimaced. "They're going to kill me."

"Oh," Spencer said, "I'm sor-"

"I'm not," Jon said quickly, reaching out for Spencer before he could talk himself out of it. He closed his fingers around Spencer's wrist. "I'm not sorry."

Spencer had sleep marks on his skin, cheek red with the imprint from sleeping on the sand. He looked a hell of a lot younger than sixteen.

Jon curled his fingers around the back of Spencer’s neck and brought him forward. Spencer’s eyes widened, his hands came up, fingers curling in Jon’s sweatshirt. Jon didn’t kiss him, not right away. His stomach was flipping wildly, nerves over his parents, nerves over Spencer, anticipation. He rested his forehead against Spencer’s, closed his eyes and breathed.

He felt it when Spencer relaxed, felt him take a shaky breath and then another.

Jon rubbed his thumb in circles over the cool skin at the nape of Spencer’s neck, felt Spencer’s breathing change, shaky again.

Jon slid his fingers in Spencer’s hair and gently lifted his head, just enough that he could press his lips to Spencer’s.    
Jon’s mouth was dry, his breath was probably not all that attractive, and Spencer’s lips were slightly chapped from the cool air. But Spencer smelled like the ocean, like whatever soap he used, and his breath hitched and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect.

“No more freaking out,” Spencer said a little blearily when Jon pulled away.

“I can’t promise anything,” Jon admitted with a sheepish smile. He touched his thumb to the corner of Spencer’s mouth. “But I’ll try.”

 

* * *

 

Jon's parents were waiting when he walked through the front door. It was a little after seven, the roads covered in the kind of slick wetness that only happened in Portland after a steady rain. Jon was tired, he had a knot in his stomach that had nothing to do with what was waiting for him inside and yet, he couldn't stop the small smile every time he thought about Spencer, standing on his front porch in Jon's hoodie.

Jon's father was sitting in the old wooden arm chair near the window, staring stonily out towards the street, and his mother, still in her sweats, was pacing the length of the living.

Jon stood just inside the entryway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched. His mother stopped her pacing when she saw him, her face impassive, but she hurried to him and gave him a quick hug.

"You are in so much trouble," she told him, pulling away.

Jon already knew that, but it sucked to hear it out loud, to see the anger on his dad's face, the worry and relief on his mother's.

"You're grounded for the week," his dad said, getting to his feet. He came over to where Jon was huddled. He clasped him on the shoulder. "And after that, you're curfew is ten o'clock on school nights, eleven on weekends." Jon bit his tongue against the groan. He'd had a feeling his curfew was going to take a major hit but this was worse.

His dad looked at him for a moment, and then let out a breath. "I'm glad you're okay. But if you ever make your mother worry like that, curfew is going to be the least of your worries."

"Yes, dad," Jon mumbled.

His parents let him go after that and Jon all but ran up the stairs to escape to his room. He was stuck in the house for the rest of the weekend and the thought made him thoroughly depressed. But he thought about Monday, about getting to see Spencer at school, and it didn't seem like such a big deal.

He took a fast shower, his entire body aching from sleeping on the sand and when he got out, he bundled into a sweatshirt that had belonged to one of his brothers once upon a time.

It was barely eight, Jon realized, checking his phone. He climbed into bed, thinking he'd sleep the day away, but thumbed through his phone book, clicking "send" when he reached Spencer's number.

"Hey," Spencer said, his voice sleepy sounding when he answered.

There was a flood of warmth clear through to his fingertips, hearing Spencer's voice like that, his guard down.

"Hi," Jon agreed, burrowing down beneath the blankets, tucking his phone against his ear. "Did I wake you?"

"Mm, no," Spencer mumbled, and Jon had a sudden urge to know what he looked like right now. "Are you okay? How much trouble are you in?"

"It's okay," Jon said a little ruefully. It wasn't like this was unexpected. He hadn't been thinking all that clearly last night, showing up at Spencer's house, driving an hour out to the beach, ignoring the nagging in the back of his brain telling him he should call his mom, take Spencer home.

"I'm grounded," he admitted and he could hear Spencer's sympathetic groan.

"Sorry," Spencer said and Jon smiled. "Not your fault, remember? I'm the idiot who kidnapped _you_.”

"Jon, still, that sucks a lot."

Jon agreed, if only because it meant he wouldn't get to see Spencer until Monday. Not that he was going to say that out loud, ever.

"If it makes you feel any better," Spencer said around a yawn, sounding sleepy and far away, "Ryan's pissed at me."

"What? Why?" Jon knew the answer to that, Ryan hated him.

"He thinks I shouldn't have lied to my parents," Spencer said quietly. There was a beat of silence on the other end and then Spencer said softly, "he's right. I've never lied to them. I've never had to."

"Spence," Jon started, feeling like an asshole. He hadn't thought any of this through, hadn't thought about what it would mean for Spencer, having Ryan cover for him, lying to his parents.

"Don't, Jon," Spencer mumbled, "it's okay. I knew what I was doing. I wanted to." He said the last part quietly, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

"I'm sorry you're grounded," Spencer said after a minute. "I was hoping you could come to Sid's."

Jon had been hoping, too. "Yeah, I know. But I'll pick you up on Monday before school," he said. "Uh, if that's okay," he added hurriedly.

"Yeah," Spencer whispered, cleared his throat, and said a little louder, "that'd be nice."

They talked for a few more minutes but it was clear they were both quickly losing speed, exhausted.

"Okay, I'll see you on Monday," Jon said, eyes closed, curling to his side.

"Jon," Spencer said suddenly, "call me, if you get bored or whatever."

Jon smiled and mumbled, "I will."

 

* * *

 

The weekend sucked. That was all there was to it. His parents weren't feeling particularly generous towards Jon, not that he blamed them, but still. He spent most of it in his room, doing his homework, talking on the phone with Brendon about his latest attempts with Ryan, texting with Tom.

He was counting the hours, he realized on Sunday evening. For the first time in his life, he was counting down the hours until the weekend was over. It was Spencer's fault. He'd decided sometime that afternoon, lying on his back in his bed, his hand down his underwear, that everything that was crazy in his life was Spencer's fault. He'd jerked off five times over the weekend, every time thinking about Spencer. The first few times had started with the old standby fantasy he'd always jerked off to, the pretty redheaded girl giving way to Spencer's face as he was getting close. By the third time, he'd given up pretending and started off thinking of Spencer's pink lips, the shape of his ass in those ridiculous black jeans he loved, the way his t-shirt rode up his belly. He always came the hardest remembering that night a few weeks ago, the feel of Spencer hovering over him, the way his lips had tasted, the soft noises he'd made.

In short, Jon was screwed and it was Spencer's fault. But he wasn't that upset about it anymore, not when he thought about the alternative, not having Spencer. Not that he _had_ Spencer, not that he _wanted_ to have Spencer.

 

* * *

 

The week after the beach, Jon was at Spencer's house every morning at 7:45, waiting at the curb for him. He hadn't intended it to become a thing, giving Spencer a ride. But Monday morning when he showed up, Spencer came out of the house with his hair wet, his cheeks pink, smiling a crooked smile like he was happy to see Jon, it just sort of seemed natural to show up again on Tuesday. By Friday, when he pulled into Spencer's driveway, idling and waiting, he realized he'd spent the whole week looking forward to the mornings, to Spencer.

"You know," Spencer said when he'd climbed into the front seat and was buckling himself in, "you don't _have_ to give me a ride to school." He was looking at Jon with a crooked eyebrow and a tilt of his head. "Not that I don't love you for it," he said, mouth curving in a soft smile and turning to stare out the window. Jon watched his profile and noticed the pink flush on Spencer's cheeks.

"I like it," Jon blurted before he could bite his lip.

Spencer turned his head. "Okay," he said with a small smile. "I do too."

School was still a drag. Jon hated first period chemistry as much as ever but now there were texts from Spencer to keep him from dying of boredom, Jon bent over his desk in the back row, Heffler obliviously rambling on. And break after second period meant Brendon and Spencer were waiting for him at the stairs in the language hall, heads bent together talking about something and they'd look up almost in unison, smiling, Brendon with his bright, beautiful beam, and Spencer with his softer, smaller smile that he only ever smiled for Jon.

Being grounded meant he went from school to work and from work straight home. No hanging out at Tom's or going to Council Crest, or giving Spencer or Brendon a ride home. By the end of the week he was ready for the punishment to be over.

If he had to be grounded for a week, it was decent timing that his punishment was up before the coming weekend, the weekend before Halloween.

"There's a huge party at Ben's," Jon told Spencer at lunch on Friday. They were in the cafeteria, a group of tables in the corner. Tom and Holly were making out and Jon was studiously ignoring them. Chelsea had started eating lunch with her soccer team. Jon felt like an asshole about that, but he wasn't sorry he'd ended things.

Spencer gave him a quirk of his lips that was all cynicism. "Jon," he said, a little bit of exasperation in his voice. "I don't think so."

"Me and Ryan are going," Brendon said suddenly, perking up. He had his leg draped over Ryan's lap. Ryan seemed completely oblivious, head bent over a book. He looked up when he heard his name. "No we're not," he said, jaw set.

"We are," Brendon nodded, pushing his fingers through Ryan's hair. "You'll like it, it's a _Halloween_ party, Ryan," Brendon said like that made all the difference in the world. Ryan ignored him and bent his head back over his book.

"Okay," Jon said, running over options in his head. He didn't think he'd ever get Spencer to one of these parties. But he wasn't going to go without him, which was a huge issue Jon didn't want to think about ever, since it said way too much about his investment in Spencer.

"So," Jon said, voice pitched low for Spencer's ears only. "We could see a movie."

Spencer's eyes widened and the pink that was usually the only sign of Spencer's feelings on a particular subject crept down his throat, disappearing beneath the vee of his t-shirt. Not that Jon noticed.

"Yeah? Really?" Spencer looked pleased, and maybe a little like he didn't believe Jon.

If they'd been alone, instead of in a high school cafeteria, surrounded by people, Jon might have touched Spencer's hand. As it was, though no one was paying them any attention, Jon was hyper aware of how not alone they were.

"Yeah," Jon smiled. "We can grab something to eat, go see a movie. If you want."

Spencer looked so surprised, so completely content that Jon could think only of how much he suddenly wanted to kiss Spencer, pull him into his lap and kiss the surprise off his face.

"I want," Spencer said quietly, bending his head back over his lunch like it was the most important thing. The back of his neck was pink and Jon curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to see if it was as warm, as soft, as it looked.

It took Jon a second to realize that Brendon was watching him with an unreadable look on his face.

"What?" Jon said quietly, trying to keep the defensiveness out.

Brendon shrugged. "Nothing," he said, but it was so much more than nothing judging by the guard Jon watched come up.

"B," Jon muttered under his breath, not wanting to start anything but he fucking hated the way Brendon did that lately, closing in on himself in a way Jon had never seen before these last few weeks.

Brendon didn't budge and Jon grit his teeth. They'd talk about it eventually, they always did, but for now it was bugging the hell out of Jon.

 

* * *

 

Jon picked Spencer up a little after seven. He even parked his car in the driveway and went up the front steps, knocked on the door, and let Spencer's parents usher him in.

"Hello," Mrs. Smith said warmly, holding her hand out for Jon to shake. "It's nice to finally meet you. Thank you for giving Spencer a ride to school so often."

Jon shook her hand, and then Mr. Smith's. "I don't mind," Jon said with a shrug, hoping it didn't look like he was sweating from nerves and butterflies in his stomach.

"We're pleased Spencer is meeting so many new friends," his mother said and Jon knew then that she and her husband had no clue that her son and he were edging towards being so much more than that. He'd have felt vaguely guilty about that but Spencer came out of the kitchen then, wiping his hands on his jeans.

"Mom," Spencer said with a roll of his eyes. "Lay off the third degree please. Jon's a good guy."

“I wasn’t interrogating him, Spencer,” Mrs Smith said, pushing Spencer’s bangs off his forehead. “I was just telling him we’re glad you’re making new friends.”  
 Spencer looked horrified. He made an apologetic, embarrassed face at Jon. Jon bit his lip against a laugh.

“Okay, we’re going now before you cause any more damage,” Spencer said with a grimace.

“Home by eleven, Spencer,” Mr. Smith called from the front porch, as Jon and Spencer climbed into Jon’s car.

“Oh god, sorry,” Spencer muttered, “my parents are a little overprotective.”

"What do you want to see?" Jon asked as he turned onto East Burnside, heading over to Lloyd Center.

"Ryan told me about this German documentary that's playing this weekend," Spencer said with a shrug. Jon turned and made a horrified face at Spencer who tilted his head back and laughed. "Or," he said, grinning, "we could see that Will Ferrell movie that's playing."

"Thank you," Jon mumbled, giving Spencer a smile he hoped came off as charming. It seemed to work since Spencer looked away, ducking his head and biting his lip in a disarming, adorable way that made Jon narrowly miss running a red light.

"Shit," Jon muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel. It wasn't as though this was new, the effect Spencer had on him. But it took him by surprise occasionally. And there was the fact that Jon still wasn't all that comfortable with it.

The lot at the theater was packed, with Friday night movie goers and people taking the Max downtown. They walked across the huge lot, the wind picking up and making it suddenly a lot cooler than it had been in the last few months.

"Did Brendon convince Ryan to go to the party?" Jon asked as they walked, his hands tucked into his pockets to keep from reaching out and grabbing Spencer's hand, an impulse he'd never had when dating girls.

Spencer laughed then, an abrupt, amused sound. "Yes, and I had to hear an hour's worth of bitching about Brendon's persistence. I even walked over to Ryan's and helped him pick out a costume."

Jon grinned to himself. Jon had gotten away with saying no to Brendon once, and even that didn't really count since Brendon had been drunk at the time and halfway to passing out. Ryan didn't stand a chance.

"At least there's bound to be some stories tomorrow," Jon said, catching Spencer's eye and smiling at the thought. He was pretty sure an infatuated Brendon, alcohol and Ryan were not a good combination.

"Or we might have to do damage control," Spencer said with a wry tilt of his lips. "You don't know Ryan, and I'm a little worried Brendon's perfect for him."

Jon didn't ask for clarification. He knew exactly what Spencer meant.

When they got to the ticket window, Jon didn't offer to pay for Spencer's ticket, though he'd argued with himself about it on the drive to Spencer's house. He was afraid it might mean exactly what he wanted it to mean so he kept his mouth shut and let Spencer buy his own ticket.

"Do you want to share popcorn?" Jon couldn't help asking, thinking he liked the idea.

They were being pushed along the crowded lobby by the swell of people and Spencer seemed to stumble, tripping on the carpet. Jon raised his eyebrow and Spencer nudged him with an elbow in the stomach and told him to shut up.

"I didn't realize you were so graceful," Jon told him, using Spencer's lack of balance as an excuse to put a hand on his lower back, however briefly.

Spencer scowled, forehead furrowing adorably and said, "for that, I'm making you buy the popcorn. And you have to buy me Red Vines."

Jon found himself thinking he'd buy Spencer any damn thing he wanted, so long as he looked at Jon like that, pink lips and big, smiling eyes.

"What's going on with your family for Thanksgiving?" Jon asked while they waited in the interminable concession line.

"We're going to Las Vegas to see my grandparents," Spencer said with a shrug, looking like the idea depressed him. "You?"

"We drive up to Seattle every year," Jon said, taking a step as the line inched forward.

"God I'm jealous. I love Seattle," Spencer said with a noise that sounded like half a sigh, half a groan.

Jon bumped Spencer with his hip. "Yes, but Vegas has all that ... gambling?" Jon said with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders, coming up with nothing.

"I don't know why I like you," Spencer said with a sad shake of his head. Jon went completely still, eyes frozen on Spencer's face.

Spencer blanched immediately as what he'd said sunk in. "Oh god," he mumbled, looking down at the carpet. When he looked up again, he gave Jon a small smile.

They hadn’t so much as touched, really, since the beach, let alone kiss. They hadn’t talked about it, but there was some unspoken agreement that they were going to let things happen.

Jon bent his head, brushed his lips against Spencer’s ear and said, “it’s okay, I like you too.”

When he pulled back Spencer was looking at him, eyes huge, cheeks pink.

Jon gave him a reassuring smile and pulled him towards the theater.

 

* * *

 

"Hey, so," Spencer said quickly, rushed. "Can I ask you a question?"

Jon swallowed and tried to look nonchalant. "Sure," he nodded.

Spencer licked his lower lip, Jon watched the tip of his tongue slide along to the corner of his mouth and Jon's palms itched, his own mouth suddenly dry. He dragged his eyes back up. Spencer looked flushed.

"Was this a date?" Spencer blurted. His chin came up a fraction of an inch and his eyes never left Jon's.

Jon wanted to kiss Spencer, for a million reasons; so he wouldn't have to answer Spencer's question, so he wouldn't have to think about what he wanted the answer to be, to see if he could taste the candy on Spencer's tongue. But he knew the answer. He'd known the second he'd decided to ditch a party with his best friends and come see a lame movie on Halloween weekend with a guy he hadn’t stopped thinking about since they’d met.

"Yes, if you want it to be," Jon said quietly, resisting the urge to hold his breath.

“Oh,” Spencer said, clearly not expecting that answer. “Good,” he breathed, and slid across the seat, pushing his hand into Jon’s hair.

 

[ the end ]


End file.
